Three Years Later - 115 AC

Fire blazed, and screams rang out as Aelyx flew through the smokey night air. Below him, the Triarchy forces shrieked as both they and their captive Westerosi soldiers burned under Vermithor's flame. Wincing, trying to beat down the guilt that rose in his gut, Aelyx went in for another sweep, the sound of Caraxes' distinct whistle roar sounding in the distance.

They had been at it for months, night raids and day raids at unexpected, random hours, trying and failing to get a foothold on Bloodstone, the largest of the islands. But every time they got one step forward, the Crab Feeder found a way to set them back through duplicity. The enemy seemed content to wait for the combined forces of Velaryon, Tarth and the troops that had followed his father from King's Landing, loyal only to the Rogue Prince, to either starve or spend themselves trying to take the many cave systems that dotted the island.

The Crab Feeder based his sneak attacks from these caves, often leading night raids into their camps, burning their supplies and sabotaging their ships. Even dragon fire, the Targaryen's greatest weapon, seemed useless when up against the rocky cliffs and deep cave systems.

After two more sweeps, Aelyx took a cantankerous Vermithor back to their camp, frustrated that, once again, they'd made no headway as he landed the massive dragon down in the clearing that had been repurposed at a dragon nest for Caraxes, Vermithor and Seasmoke. The picked clean, burnt carcasses of various sea creatures and meagre livestock they'd had sent from the mainland were littered throughout the space.

Long since desensitized by the smell of rotting corpses and the smell of human waste, Aelyx trudged back to camp, ignoring the wide eyes glares that followed him as he marched to the large tent that doubled as both a meeting place and Lord Corlys' tent.

It was coming up on the third year since Aelyx and his father had lent their aid to the Velaryon cause, three years of piss, blood and shit, all for the promise of a betrothal and favourable trade agreements with the Velaryons.

At first, the then fourteen Aelyx had been nervous but understanding of his parent's mindset concerning the proposal, but with every year he spent away from home and family, he lost patience and passion for the cause they fought for. The only thing keeping him there was his unflinching loyalty to his father, his commander these past years.

Nodding once at the guards that stood at attention in front of the tent, Aelyx walked in without warning. Taking his place next to his father at the table, he nodded silently at a sullen-looking Laenor, who like him, stood at his father's side.

Ser Vaemond Velaryon, the younger brother of Lord Corlys, was being his usual cantankerous self and was spitting vitriol as he looked at their map of the island and the enemy forces. With a snarl on his lip, he spat out, "Three years we've been at this, and for what, brother? Nothing, we have achieved nothing but the loss of our resources, men and pride."

Leaning forward onto the table, Corlys replied, "If we leave now, we've sacrificed too much for nothing. No, we press on. There must be a way."

"The Crab Feeder will never leave those caves, and he has them too well defended for our soldiers to take it by land. You keep talking about the power of the dragons, but they have been useless thus far. I say we cut our losses and go home."

"No." That was the only word Daemon Targaryen said before he turned on his heel and swaggered out of the room. With all of the arrogance of a well-seasoned commander.

Vaemond did all but spat on the ground as he snarled, "He would have us all dead before admitting defeat." Then, pointing after Daemon said, "We don't need him; we never have!"

Blood rising in anger, Aelyx stepped forward. Now eighteen and fully matured, his frame was intimidating in the small space. He'd inherited his bulk from his Mother's side, his over six-foot frame made even more significant by the armour that covered his chest and shoulders. Coming face to face with the seething, more petite man, Aelyx growled, his voice low, "Would you like to repeat those treasonous words outside?"

Vaemond paled slightly, but his pride seemed to overpower his cowardice as he snarled, "The pup comes to defend the-"

"Don't, Vaemond," Corlys exclaimed, his voice hard, "Your Lord commands you to leave and check on the supplies."

Vaemond's eye ticked as he hesitated only a moment before turning on his heel and stalking from the tent, leaving only tension-filled silence in his wake.

What the hell were they going to do?

** Line Break**

Alycia sighed as she took in the crowd that had gathered to celebrate the second nameday of her cousin Aegon Targaryen. Having recently celebrated her sixteenth birthday, the young lady had little patience for small children; she had more important things to worry about, like her potential match after she came of age.

Poor Rhaenyra, ever since she'd turned seventeen, her father, the King, had been badgering her about wedding the proper lord to supplement her claim to the Iron Throne. Now the princess was eighteen and unwed, defective according to some who gossiped in favour of Prince Aegon. All because he was born a boy and had the Conqueror as a namesake. How quickly people forgot that it had only been with the advice and support of his sister wives that Aegon the Conqueror had won the Seven Kingdoms.

Dressed in a striking black gown with bronze accents, Alycia knew she cut quite the figure at her Mother's side as they made their way to the front of the tent to present themselves to King Viserys, her uncle. It had been three years since she'd seen the man in person, without a letter between them. She found herself buzzing with resentment towards the man who'd banished her father from his position and home for an insult that had never happened, according to her mother. Father never talked about his older brother if he could help it, too busy focusing on the present and planning for the future to dwell on the past.

Alycia figured he didn't want to discuss how easily his brother had discarded him after their long history.

As they came to a halt in front of an obviously drunk Viserys, the man's eyes widened and filled with tears as he stood on wobbly feet, "Diana! Dear, dear sister! How we've missed you these past few years."

Without hesitating, the man pulled her scowling mother into an embrace, uncaring of the raised eyebrows and disapproval scowls that followed the unorthodox act. Uncle Viserys' face fell when the embrace was only returned in the most basic of terms; it wouldn't look good for Mother to outright reject him.

Stiffly stepping out of arm's reach, Mother wore a mask of a gentile yet distant nature, "Your Grace, we were most heartened to receive the invitation to this happy day. Especially after so long."

Uncle Viserys frowned in confusion, wincing at the subtle barb Mother threw his way, "Invitation? From whom?"

"From me, father," At the sound of her cousin's voice, Alycia and her mother turned on their heels and smiled warmly at a defiant-looking Rhaenyra who strode towards them, fire in her eyes.

"Dearest!" Mother crowed, arms outstretched and grinning wide; Rhaenyra stopped into her hold, wrapping her arms around Mother's waist. Mother made a show of kissing Rhaenyra's forehead and, when they pulled away, cupped her cheeks, "My, you have grown into a beautiful young woman. The 'Realms Delight' indeed."

To Rhaenyra's credit, she didn't blush under her Aunt's ministrations; instead, she stood tall, basking in the praise she so obviously needed. Only the clearing of Otto Hightower's throat, his face pinched in disapproval, had the King jumping to attention and saying, "Oh! Rhaenyra, it was you who invited your Aunt and cousins? Speaking of, where are Daemion and Aelyx?"

Clasping her hands in front of her stomach, Mother replied, "Daemion is spending some time with his Aunt Rhaenys while Aelyx flies with his Father and Uncle Corlys in the Stepstones, Your Grace."

"Ah yes," Otto Hightower drawled, his voice slimy and his face contorted into a benign smile, "Daemon and Corlys' petty little war, it been going on three years now. Has it not?"

At the sound of the Hand's voice, Alycia's Mother's eyebrow twitched slightly but, other than that, showed no sign of the anger that no doubt roared in her belly. Instead, smiling just as fakely back at the Hightower cunt, she replied, "Yes, Lord Hand."

The Hand didn't bother to reply, simpling humming into his wine goblet while Viserys took over the conversation, "The invitation, Rhaenyra? When did you send it?"

"About a month ago," Rhaenyra didn't bother to look interested in the conversation; instead, she picked at a passing cake platter, "I thought it was high time our family was reunited. That is alright, of course? After all, it wasn't Aunt Diana or her children you banished."

Viserys nodded, ignoring the condemning stare of his Hand, jovial as ever as he cried, "A toast! To the return of close family!"

With that cry, the tension that had been building since their arrival vanished, at least superficially. The music began again, and chatter renewed as eyes turned away from the dais. But even then, Alycia knew they weren't safe or free from scrutiny; while most eyes may have turned away, most took chances, peering over cup rims and peaking out of the corner of their eyes. Their ears open for any information that may prove valuable in the future.

Taking Rhaenyra's hand in hers, Alycia nodded once to her Mother, bowed to the King and dragged Rhaenyra away from the hungry stares that followed them outside. Taking a peek over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother holding a babbling Prince Aegon in her arms while a hawkeyed Otto watched over them and a wistful Queen Allicent stared after the girls, longing in her eyes.

"She seems happy," Alycia murmured sarcastically under her breath, resulting in an unladylike snort from Rhaenyra, who scowled at the reminder, instinctively knowing who she was talking about. Then, darting a quick glance at her cousin's scowling face, Alycia gently knocked shoulders with the silver-haired princess, smirking at her when she made reluctant eye contact.

Rhaenyra gave her a sad smile, clinging to her hand while Ser Criston Cole of the King's Guard quickly took his place, following them a couple paces behind. "Things have been difficult without you and others. I've been alone." Rhaenyra murmured, a sad smile on her face while she took in the crowd gathered for her baby brother's nameday.

"I wonder, Princess," at the swarmy voice, the girl turned in unison to see Jason Lannister, with his long, slightly greasy blond hair and beard, coming to stand beside them, a swagger in his step, "Was your nameday half as a grand as this one?"

Alycia held back a scowl while Rhaenyra pasted a polite smile on her lips, "I honestly couldn't recall, and neither will Aegon."

"Lord Jason Lannister," he said, bowing his head slightly.

"We gathered that from all of the lions," Alycia said, drawing the lord's attention to her. Rhaenyra didn't need this lord salivating over her like a prize carcass. Best to remind the lord he had an attentive audience.

Ignoring her snub, Lord Lannister kept his greedy eyes on Rhaenyra, only pausing slightly to look Alycia over briefly before discarding her as a second best, "I don't believe we've been introduced, Princess."

With a snap of his fingers, a servant stepped forward, holding a tray full of wine and various snacks. Without even acknowledging the young man, the Lannister made his pick and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"A twin," Rhaenyra replied, "Your brother serves on my Father's small council."

At Rhaenyra's words, Alycia looked behind the Lannister Lord to find an almost perfect copy of him, only with cleaner, shorter hair and a well-trimmed beard, watching the conversation from his seat at the table, his eyes hawkish and assessing.

It seems there was only enough cleverness for one of them… it was a shame Jason was born before Tyland.

In his short term as Master of Ships, the knight had been known for his caution and interest in the conflict on the Stepstones. In fact, he seemed to be the only one on the council who cared about the potential consequences of her father and Lord Corlys' failure and what it could mean for the kingdom. He'd petitioned the King several times to send aid but was denied each time.

"Tyland is… frightfully dull; gods love him." The Lannister murmured in faux humility, leaning towards Rhaenyra as to whisper a deep secret in her ear, holding out a goblet of wine, "The finest honey wine you'll ever taste. Made in Lannisport, of course."

"Of course," Rhaenyra said dryly, hiding her scowl behind the goblet as she took a sip and toasted the Lannister quickly.

Alycia had long since tuned out their conversation, too busy watching the second-born Lannister, his green eyes sharp as he picked at his roasted duck and mixed vegetables. He could be useful in the future, a member of the Small Council, moderately clever and from a Great House. Plus, he wasn't his brother, which lent him certain freedoms… interesting.

Making sure to make eye contact with the older man, she smirked when the knight took the look of a deer caught in a snare, staring back at her with wide, shocked eyes, his face paling. Instead of backing away at his apprehension, Alycia kept eye contact, her purple eyes locked onto the man's face as it slowly filled back with colour, a flush taking over his cheeks at her blatant attention.

She knew she had a bit of a reputation, the daughter of the Rogue Prince, an accomplished swordswoman, archer and dragon rider. The first and only rider of the Cannibal, who some said to be the 'Black Dread Come Again.'

AlyciaBut she was also flowered, beautiful, and of Valyrian blood, which made her a catch to most power-grasping lords looking to harness the power of dragon fire.

ABut a second-born son, eager to step out of his cocksure brother's shadow, a member of the King's council, living in King's Landing away from his family's influence but still able to access their wealth and connections… that could be very useful in the wars to come.

Mother and Father had always warned their children of the potential conflict ever since the birth of Prince Aegon and King Viserys' choice to keep his eldest child, his daughter, as heir. The fact that Ser Otto had pushed for this hunt to present the little prince to the Lords was proof enough of the snake's intentions. He meant to use the Lord's to quietly shuffle Rhaenyra to the side and replace her with his blood, but if that didn't work, well, kings didn't live forever.

She was pulled from her eyefucking by Rhaenyra clasping her arm sightly, her nails digging into Alycia's skin as she said, "Thank you for the wine, Lord Lannister. But I really must be returning with my cousin to the tent."

With that, they were off, ignoring the bumbling, huffed protests behind them as Jason Lannister struggled to comprehend the quick escape. Clasping a hand over Rhaenyra's, Alycia frowned as she took in the deep stress lines on her cousin's face; no doubt the older girl was withholding tears.

"He thinks he can sell me off as a broodmare," she growled, her face pinking with anger, "To ship me off to Casterly Rock for coin and trade deals."

"Rhaenyra, you know you will have to marry," Alycia murmured, patting her arm and not allowing her to jerk free when Alycia's words obviously angered her, "It's inevitable, b. But there is something you can do about it."

Rhaenyra halted at her words, spitting out, "What?"

"You can take control of the situation. If you must be wed, let it be to the man of your choice, not your Father's. But you must choose." Alycia said, her voice firm. Rhaenyra had always been privileged, spoiled by her father and given anything she desired as Crown Princess. Aegon's birth had only just awoken her to the reality of her circumstances.

"Who should I choose then? Your brother?" Rhaenyra spat, her eyes narrowed and vindictive, "A son of a second son, set to inherit nothing my Father doesn't grant him. And with how things have been going, that appears to be nothing. Your father ruined any chance of that when he was banished, despite your mother's scheming."

Trying to push down the rage that boiled in her gut at Rhaenyra's insult - Alycia never had the best grasp on her temper; her Father liked to say she was 'Fire and Blood' personified - Alycia simply scowled and let go of Rhaenyra's arm, stepping away, "If you won't take my council, go. Go and throw your temper tantrum for all to see. Prove to them that you are just a silly little girl, ruled by emotions and not fit to be Queen."

Rhaenyra flinched at her harsh words but seemed to curl in on herself, her anger seemingly replaced by profound sadness, "Maybe they're right," she murmured, head bowed, "What have I ever done to deserve this honour?"

Smiling softly, Alycia took her hands in hers, "You are kind, brave and loyal. You have the intelligence and backbone to make a great queen. It isn't your fault that the Hightowers are relentlessly trying to see you crippled."

Taking a moment to look around the camp, she spotted her mother off in the distance, still rocking a smiling Aegon, deep in discussion with a drunk Viserys. Watching like vultures circling a potential corpse, the Hightowers circled them, searching for weakness. They wouldn't find any; Diana Royce née Targaryen had had three years to plan her return to court. She wouldn't be taken down by a bunch of upstart scholars and religious zealots.

Smirking, Alicia turned to look at Rhae, saying, "Let's take a break. Perhaps we can find that white hart ourselves, prove the whole lot of them wrong."

Giggling, the two girls took off, Alycia only stopping long enough to change into one of Rhaenyra's extra riding outfits while a worried Ser Criston fretted. Then, silently, they grabbed a few of the Targaryen mounts and were off, galloping away at breakneck speed, their laughter ringing in the cool afternoon air.

**Line Break**

For several hours the girl had ridden through the dense Kingswood, Ser Criston following silently behind, his baleful eyes locked on Alycia, his disapproval clear. Alycia ignored him, but it did worry her how the sworn sword and the princess seemed to be able to speak silently just using their eyes, their affection for each other clear as day.

I miss the days we were trying to escape Ser Harald… she thought wryly, looking up at the setting son. They'd managed to hunt several rabbits, a couple of pheasants and even a red fox that had been unfortunate enough to cross their path. Most of the kills had been made by a more practiced Alycia, but despite being rusty, Rhaenyra had quickly recovered her archy knowledge and had been the one to hit the fox between the eyes first try.

"We should set up camp," Alycia said, turning her horse towards where she knew a stream lay further into the brush.

"Shouldn't we head back to camp, Princess?" Ser Criston asked, his eyes hard when they met Alycia's in challenge before turning doe-eyes at Rhaenyra.

"No," Rhaenyra said, eyes soft as she gazed back at the attractive young knight, "I am tired, and I don't want to deal with the shitstorm that is no doubt waiting for us. Besides, we're safe; we have you."

The man blushed under her praise but didn't look happy as he followed the two young girls into the brush. They made camp a short distance away from the stream to avoid any flooding if they got rain and set to work making a fire and skinning a couple of the rabbits for supper.

By the time they were done, the sun had set, and their only light was the one emitting from the small fire they sat around. Ser Criston had since stripped off his heavy kingsguard armour, leaving him with only a padded white gambison and his trousers and boots. His sword lay beside him as he sat on a dead log, eyes locked on the flames. Unfortunately for the girls, they couldn't strip down, both protocol and the cold night air forcing them to keep wearing their spoiled, uncomfortable riding clothes.

"Princess, I must make a final plea that we return to camp," Criston said, his voice quiet in the solemn silence that had fallen over them, "His Grace is certain to be worried by your absence."

"I rather like it here," Rhaenyra muttered, throwing a stick into the fire and looking up at the night sky with thoughtful eyes.

"His Grace can worry himself to death if he likes."

Alycia snorted at her cousin's words, ignoring the glare Ser Crispon sent her. No wonder her Father loathed the man; he was such a self-righteous cunt.

"Tell me something, Ser Criston. Do you think the realm will ever accept me as their Queen?"

At Ser Criston's hesitation, Alycia sat forward from where she'd been lounging against a nearby tree, saying, "We will make them accept you, Rhaenyra. You have my Mother and Father's full support, and through my Father, the Velaryons. When they win the conflict at the Stepstones, His Grace will have to accept my Father back at court. Him and my brothers."

Nodding begrudgingly, Ser Criston added, "They will have no choice but to Princess."

But while Rhaenyra smiled at Alycia's words, she seemed disheartened by Ser Criston. Why would she want the realm to be forced to accept her?

Before she could find the words to respond, a rustle in the bushes had her head jerking to the side. Alycia quickly stood, and Ser Criston reached for his sword. While the trio stood at attention, eyes glued to the bushes where the sound emanated, Alycia slowly shuffled towards Rhaenyra behind Ser Criston. Reaching down, she palmed her dagger, her sword having been left at camp. Idiot.

Just as Rhaenyra went to do the same, her eyes wide and fearful, a squealing boar came running out of the trees bashing into Ser Criston, sending him sprawling. While Rhaenyra screamed in protest, trying to shuffle away from the charging beast, Alycia took action, desperate to protect her cousin.

The boar quickly knocked over the sobbing princess, trying and failing to gore her while the princess struggled to fend him off, using both hands on his tusks to keep them away. Yelling a war cry, Alycia jumped on top of the boar, stabbing at it wildly, hitting it in the throat, back and even its snout, trying to kill it before it killed her cousin.

With a squeal, the pig fell to the side, leaving a gasping Rhaenyra lying on the ground, her eyes wide and filled with terror, a blood-soaked Alycia standing over her, dagger still raised in the air. Ser Criston hobbled over, taking in the scene with stunned eyes, his sword in hand. He limped as he came nearer, panting, "Princess -"

The pig began to fight to stand, shrieking violently and roaring in agony, sending the girl scrambling to escape. With a yell, Rhaenyra finally grasped her dagger and, with a vengeance, began to sink the blade repeatedly into the boar's face and neck, yelling the whole time as her face was smeared with blood.

When the boar finally fell silent, his breathing stopped, the princess was covered in blood, the red liquid staining her hair red and pink, her jerkin stained and ruined. Panting, she fell back into Alycia's waiting arms, the girls embracing while the knight stood in stunned silence, his dark eyes locked on the dead beast and his charge.

Choking back sobs, the princess spat out, "We'll bring it back tomorrow. Let the camp see what happens when they threaten Valyrian blood."

Shuffling awkwardly, obviously, in pain, the knight said, "Of course, princess." And began the lengthy process of pulling the boar away from camp, where he started to gut it, preparing it for transport.

What followed was a restless sleep on the cold, hard ground. The girls curled up together while Ser Criston kept watch. The following day, they rose with the sun, packing their saddlebags and creating a makeshift sled to pull the boar behind them. Then they set off towards camp.

As they came up onto a ridge overlooking the valley the Kingswood resided in, they paused to take it in, seeing the red tents and flags of the camp in the distance.

Thumping hooves and low bellows made them look to the side to see a massive stag with white fur and huge antlers. Some fifty feet away, the magnificent beast stood tall and proud as it stared at the ragtag trio, covered in blood and dirt.

Slowly, Ser Criston went for his sword while Alycia went for her bow. When Rhaenyra frowned and went to protest, Alycia shook her head back and instantly shoved the bow at her cousin. She needed to do this. If she wanted to be respected, the young heir needed to stop being so passive and take action to secure her throne.

Hesitantly, Rhaenyra took the bow from her cousin and took aim, letting a tear roll down her cheek when she realized the White Hart wasn't going to run away; he'd chosen her. For whatever reason, she felt like he went to his death willingly.

Breathing in deeply, she aimed and took the shot, sobbing slightly when the great beast fell with a cry.

The sound of flapping wings had the horses neighing in protest and dancing as a shadow fell upon them. Then, looking up, she was astonished to see a black dragon flying ahead, landing right behind where the white hart lay, dead.

As the dragon, having to be at least six times the size of Syrax, more significant than even Caraxes, lowered his head, sniffing at the recently spilled blood, bile rose in her throat; she couldn't let the hart's death be for nothing, she needed to show it to her Father.

She needn't have worried, Alycia quickly called out in Valyrian, "No Cannibal, leave it, my sweet."

Jumping off her horse, her younger cousin strode towards the growling black dragon, his wings flapping slightly in agitation, no doubt because of his rider's command. Not wavering in the face of his ire, Alycia came to stand in front of the hart, blocking the Cannibal's reach. Holding out a hand, the dragon only hesitated for a moment before lowering his head for a pat, purring deep in his throat while an aghast Ser Criston and awed Rhaenyra watched on.

Murmuring softly, Alycia said, "We need your help, boy." Then, with the help of the dragon's lowered wing, she climbed atop him. She called out to the others, "Head down to camp, Cannibal and I will ensure you have a memorial entrance."

Gently, especially for a beast with his reputation, the Cannibal took the hart in his claws and with two flaps of his great wings, he took flight, headed away from the camp.

"Quickly, Ser Criston," Rhaenyra said, her voice shaky with nerves and excitement, "We must make haste; forget the boar if you must."

** Line Break **

Diana sighed as she got ready for the day; it had been a late night of canoodling with the lords and ladies of the South, trying to assess who would be a problem for Rhaenyra's ascension. As she dressed once more in Targaryen red and black, Diana fingered the many necklaces and bracelets given to her by her husband throughout the years of their marriage, Daemon was a vain creature, and he loved to spoil his family with gifts to make them seem as important and intimidating as possible.

And for the last three years, he'd been gone. Both he and their eldest son lost to her, to war. So it was no surprise she'd found her first grey hairs in that time, with how much worrying she had done, overseeing Alycia's and Daemion's upbringing alone, Rhaenys' help or not.

They had split their time evenly between Dragonstone and Driftmark, spending almost all of their time with Daemon's cousins. The children thankfully got along well, with Alycia and Laena were known for sneaking off to spend time with their dragons, Laena having claimed Vaghar in the time since her family had left King's Landing following their failed attempt at wedding Laena to Viserys.

With Laenor also gone to war, Daemion had been left to follow close behind, his eyes never leaving the beautiful Laena for a second. He had always been a scholar, but Diana couldn't help but notice how her son poured over books about the conquest, more specifically, Vaghar's past riders, and eagerly relayed the information to an intrigued Laena.

Her boy was now fourteen and had sprouted up; his thick dark curls perfectly framed his high cheekbones and beautiful features. He was shaping into a handsome young lad, despite his gangly frame and propensity for pimples as his boyhood ended and he headed into adulthood. And Laena, now sixteen and blossoming into a strong, headstrong young woman, had noticed.

Diana and Rhaenys had already begun discussing an official betrothal once their husbands returned from war and some more… radical changes. With Rhaenyra taking the throne after Viserys, it would mean a massive shift in succession laws and with their decision to support Rhaenyra's claim came the opportunity to save the Velaryons from any possible scandal caused by Laenor's proclivities.

Laena had been born first, one year before her brother Laenor, but because of the succession laws in Westeros, Laenor had been named heir against his will. But, with Rhaenyra, a royal princess being named heir over her trueborn younger brother, that left some wiggle room for other houses, especially houses of Valyrian descent, to make changes to their own lines of succession.

With Lord Corlys' consent, Rhaenys wanted to name Laena heir to Driftmark and Daemion her consort. Laenor would then be free of any marriage demands if he so chose. Besides, Laenor had always been more of a free spirit, wanting to travel the world, while Laena was far more interested in Driftmark and its success. Together, with Laenor continuing his Father's role as voyager and discoverer and Laena as Driftmark's Lady, the next generation could prove both powerful and competent, with Velaryon and Targaryen children to inherit.

Diana was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a horn blowing. Her heart was in her throat, she raced from the tent. Alycia and Rhaenyra had been missing since yesterday, and the party sent to find them had been unsuccessful so far.

The sight that greeted her had her gasping and rushing forward to meet a blood-stained Rhaenyra, leaving a shocked Viserys to gape from his spot at the table, Allicent and baby Aegon at his side.

She stopped when she took in the boar Ser Criston's horse pulled behind her, obviously killed by the calm and composed princess. With her hands held daintily behind her back, her head held high, Rhaenyra looked like the War Queens she was descended from. As the crowd murmured their approval and descent, they were silenced by a familiar cry filling the air. A shadow fell over the camp as a familiar black dragon flew low overhead, something white clutched in its claws.

The creature flew so low, in fact, that its wing strokes tore down several poorly put-up tents and sent animals of all kinds fleeing for their lives. Then, as it slowly passed over the elegant table set up for breaking their fast, it let go of its query, letting it drop on the table, sending food flying and making the ladies scream in terror at what they saw.

A massive white stag lay dead, its huge antlers scratching the table, its tongue lying outside its mouth. The men cursed as they scrambled away from the sight, the women screaming and crying with horror, but Viserys stood stock still throughout the panic, his eyes plastered to the corpse presented to him.

Then slowly, he looked up at an unfazed-looking Rhaenyra who had come to stand on the other side of the table; after a tense moment, she called, "Sorry for the interruption Father, but I thought you might appreciate the gift I got you on my hunting expedition. Cousin Alycia was so kind to help me carry the beast down from the cliffside."

"You- You killed the White Hart?" The King asked, his eyes wide and face blank with shock.

"Yes, Father. He came to me up on that ridge when I was on my way back to camp."

"It's true, Your Grace," Ser Criston called, taking his place a step behind the princess, "Her Highness also brings you this boar, several rabbits and even a beautiful red fox."

Silence followed the knight's proclamation as the crowd digested his words. The King looked elated at the news, while Ser Otto looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon. Prince Aegon bounced in his mother's arms, his cries of fear slowly quieting as the Queen stared at Rhaenyra with wonder and fear.

Finally, feeling the Viserys was taking too long to react, Diana cried, smiling, "All Hail Princess Rhaenyra! The Heir to the Iron Throne, your future Queen and the Hart's Bane!"

Viserys seemed to shake himself out of his shock, and raising a goblet that hadn't been spilled by his daughter's spectacle, he called, "All Hail! Rhaenyra Hart's Bane! My Heir!"

"All Hail!" The crowd cried, bursting into applause. Even bitter Otto was forced to politely applaud the princess' accomplishment. A shy smile had crept across Allicent lips, and she also clapped, handing Aehon off to the nursemaid to do so.

With a crash, the Cannibal landed just outside camp, and Alycia howled from atop him. Clapping her hand while the dragon roared, his cry covering the camp and ramping it up even more. The tides had just turned in the princess' favour. Any who challenged her now would have to think twice before underestimating her again.

A chant rose up among the ranks, "All Heil Princess Rhaenyra! All Hail Princess Rhaenyra! All Hail!"