130 AC
The winds carried whispers.
Rhaenyra had oft heard these words back in King's Landing, and for most of her life, they had proven their truthfulness. She had heard enough whispers to last a lifetime. Whispers about her, about both her husbands, about her sweet boys…
Now the winds carried nothing but the cold, which was rapidly wrapping around her body, raising the hairs on her arms and making her lips blue.
The darkness under her eyes, and the redness of her cheeks had not vanished, even hours after the tragedy. Of all the cruelties the Gods had forced her to bear witness…the storming of the Dragonpit, the deaths of all those poor dragons. Tyraxes, the small but brave soul. Her lady, Syrax.
Joffrey…her sweet boy. He bravely mounted a dragon which did not belong to him, in an attempt to save the rest from those…those creatures. Spiteful monsters. Vermin. That's what that Shepherd and his followers were.
Rhaenyra closed her eyes, fresh tears falling on her cheeks, as she heard the babe's cries from afar. Her most trusted lady-in-waiting, Elinda Massey, was rocking Visenya in her arms, desperate to calm her.
They were soon to reach the safety of her beloved home. Dragonstone. The home she and Daemon had shared with their children for many happy years. Away from the vicious vipers her father had surrounded himself with in the Red Keep.
"Daemon." she whispered his name.
She was filled with the compulsive need to turn the rings on her fingers, but as she reached for them, she felt naught but her cool and rather dry skin. Her rings were gone. She had sold them…along with her father's crown, for safe passage.
He promised he would always be by her side. He promised to defend her and their children. But he left them.
Betrayed her!
She could still hear Mysaria's whispers in her ear, "You must believe me, Your Grace, for I have the truthful words of spies who have bore witness. Your husband has taken the girl to bed. He flies with her, sleeps beside her, bathes with her…"
The woman had said these things with an almost smile on her face, watching Rhaenyra as she desperately called out for a raven to be sent to the Lord of Maidenpool, demanding the head of that wretched girl who dared cast her spells on the Queen's beloved consort.
How could Daemon do this to her? After all they've been through…all they meant to one another. All the battles they faced against her father, against the Greens, so they could be in each other's arms.
For the Gods had made them for one another. Even now, in the darkest hour of her life, Rhaenyra knew…her heart had left her the moment she heard of his death. She had no desire to live this way…no desire to remain broken and cold.
She was aware of the years that separated them. Almost six and ten years apart. And she had made a promise to herself, many years ago, when she married him, that should the time come that the Stranger takes him, she would follow him soon after.
Rhaenyra remembered she had told him so, the night their married on Dragonstone. The faithful Maester Gerardys had witnessed a most beautiful ceremony, and soon after he had seen the joyous Rhaenyra lead her chosen husband up the stairs to the chambers that had once belonged to the Conqueror himself, so as to consummate their love.
In the midst of passion, Rhaenyra had told him, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha mele zaldrīzes. Lo ao morghūljagon, nyke kessa emagon naejot morghūljagon tolī. Kesi henujagon bisa vys hēnkirī." I love you, my red dragon. If you die, I shall have to die too. We will leave this world together.
Holding on to her hips, Daemon had slowed his movements, raising his head from her neck to look at her, as he exclaimed, "Daor! Ao mittys, mittys ābra!" No! You foolish, foolish woman!
Rhaenyra's eyes had filled with tears at his words then…tears which he had kissed away, as he whispered, "Zaldrītsos, iksā naejot glaesagon. Iksā naejot udrāzma. Iksā naejot mīsagon īlva riñar." Little dragon, you are to live. You are to rule. You are to protect our children.
She was about to protest when he had covered her lips again with his, hungrily kissing her, as he had wanted to do for so long. Thrusting into her as deeply as possible, Daemon had told her, "Iksā ñuhon. Rȳ mōrī, iksā ñuhon." You are mine. At last, you are mine.
Moaning, Rhaenyra had let her lips trail over the scars on his chest…scars which symbolized his achievements in all the battles he faced throughout his life. A king in all but name.
They came in unison, calling out each other's names, neither having felt such height of passion before. Daemon had pulled her in his arms afterwards, pushing her golden-silver locks aside, so as he could place warm kisses on her neck. Rhaenyra closed her eyes, basking in the warmth located in her lower stomach, until the moment she felt something cold near her throat.
Turning back to look at him, Rhaenyra was met with one of her husband's known devilish grins, as he clasped a chain around her neck. Looking down, she recognized the Targaryen crest, hanging from a gold chain.
Daemon leaned in and kissed her deeply, his thumb circling the crest and then pressing firmly on her neck, possessively keeping her in place. As soon as they parted, he had whispered against her lips, "Naejot rūnis ao bona iksi Targārien Lentor, ñuha dōna. Daor ñuha mittys hen iā lēkia. Daor zȳhon Hightower ilībōños. Mērī īlva, se īlva riñar." To remind you that we are House Targaryen, my sweet. Not my fool of a brother. Not his Hightower spawns. Only us, and our children.
All of these moments…their love, their plans…how could he forget them for the sake of one bastard girl he met only a few moons before his death? Was she a fool to believe he loved her? Had he truly forsaken her for that girl…or had she been a fool to listen to the poisonous words of the White Worm?
Rhaenyra let out a cry of anguish, loud enough to startle Lady Elinda, as well as the remaining Queensguard knights on board.
"Mother." The murmur of the silver-haired boy of ten years of age next to her finally made Rhaenyra open her eyes.
"Come here, my son. My last boy." Rhaenyra managed to say, as she took off the cloak and wrapped it around him, protecting him from the cold, as the ship moved with the waves.
"You cried out for Father." Aegon told her, his bottom lip trembling, his dark purple eyes glistering with tears.
"I did. I loved him so." Rhaenyra admitted, and pressed her son close to her chest, as an idea formed in her mind. She opened his small hand, and pressed the golden chain with the Targaryen crest into his palm. Her last possession…a gift from her beloved, one she had refused to sell for anything.
"You must heed my words, Aegon, for there is much I must tell you about our family…about your future, which you will have my sweet boy. Both you and my Visenya shall live. I swear this to you."
Rhaenyra lowered her voice so as no one can hear the words of dreams and prophesies coming from her mouth. If anything should happen to her, Aegon needed to live and carry on the secrets of their past.
They had reached the shores of Dragonstone, and what Rhaenyra believed to be her one true home…her single place of refuge, turned out to be clouded with betrayal and murder.
"Mother, flee!" were the last words she heard from her little Aegon's mouth.
…
145 AC
"You are not eating, brother." Viserys remarked, as the two brothers broke fast together early the next morrow.
Looking towards Aegon's plate, Viserys noticed the various untouched foods…and the tea in his cup, which most likely had gone cold.
Viserys had become used to this after all of the years which had passed. Whenever there was an incredibly important matter which required the King's attention, or the need for the King to speak before either the Small Council or the Court, Aegon closed off, refusing to eat. He was not fasting. No. He just kept to his thoughts, and as such, forgot to care for himself.
On this morrow, Aegon's eyes were the darkest shade of purple possible, matching the darkness underneath. His eyes locked with Viserys, as he told him, "I dreamed of her last night."
Viserys was chewing slowly, but stopped at hearing his words.
Then, as if the moment was not of importance, the Hand went back to eating, breaking eye contact, and finding the time to say, "Of course. We have spoken much of her late in the night."
Viserys was certainly not keen to discuss his brother's ramblings about their mother, dreams and prophesies. Whatever their mother may have told him on that ship…she was unwell.
"I am certain Mother visited me. I heard her voice. She spoke the same words of the Conqueror…" The King was cut off by his brother quite harshly.
"Aegon, there are more important matters we need to tend to on this day, and I want to know…"
"Why do you refuse to speak of her? Is it as Visenya says? You have grown resentment for our mother and father?" Aegon demanded of him, raising his voice slightly, as he tended to do when he was nervous.
It was not like Aegon to snap at his brother in such ways, but Visenya's words had stayed with him long after she had left his chambers that day. Did he give Viserys too much power? Did his guilt for what happened on that ship lead him to close his eyes at his brother's doings?
"No, of course not." Viserys replied, surprised himself that he was being questioned, but his voice showed no conviction.
"You have long since forgiven me, brother. Why can you not forgive them?" Aegon asked, his voice gentle and curious.
"There is nothing to forgive." Viserys told him softly, looking up to once again meet his gaze.
Viserys oft believed his silence and discomfort gave others the impression that he was cross with the ghosts of his mother and father. He was not. But he had no desire to speak of them, as it would be a constant reminder of what happened the day he was sent away. For his own protection, they said. And yet, that had been the last time he had seen Jacaerys, Joffrey, or their mother and father.
And then he was taken by the Rogares and had to marry their daughter. A woman older than him. He had loved her dearly, and that love had meant nothing to her. She abandoned him. And that, he hated to admit, had hardened his heart. He was determined never to let himself feel so openly ever again.
"I had to settle a dispute between Lord Toron Greyjoy and Johanna Lannister early this morrow. It seems that woman does not stop stirring up trouble. I cannot understand why her son brought her with him." Viserys said, moving on to a different matter, and Aegon's eyes widened.
"What has happened?"
"Lord Toron demanded justice for his gelded and murdered brother at the hands of the Lannisters. He believes that as we seek justice for our mother, he is entitled to justice for his brother as well."
"I did not think the Greyjoys cared much for family." Aegon whispered, sadly.
"They do not. However, there is bad blood between these two Houses, and we must put a stop to it."
Aegon and Viserys finished their meal in silence, and then sent for the squires as well as the maids to help them prepare for the Council meeting on this day. It was a meeting to which all the heads of the Houses present were invited to attend.
Grand Maester Alford had the documents prepared, as he entered the Small Council chambers.
To everyone's surprise, the Lord Hand had demanded that all members of the Kingsguard be present inside the chambers during this final meeting on the matter of the recognition of the reign of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. As Viserys spoke with Lord Commander Ruskyn, he eyed Lyonel Hightower as well as Unwin Peake with suspicion. Protection was certainly needed.
Lady Samantha was making her way over to the Council chambers as well, but was stopped by both Ser Raynard and Viserys at the door.
"I wish to attend this meeting with my lord husband. Are you to deny a woman entry, my Lord Hand? Does that not defeat the purpose of the meeting itself?" Samantha asked, with a small smirk on her face.
The foolish woman thought she would be able to surpass the Lord Hand's wit.
Viserys only matched her smile, and stepped closer, so as to say, "The King has requested that only the heads of the households are to be present, my lady. Unless, you are trying to tell us that you yourself are the head of House Hightower. And if that is so, I shall have Ser Raynard here escort your husband out of the room, so as you may take his place."
Samantha's smile dropped. With a small curtsy, she excused herself and stalked back down the halls, watching as Lady Elenda Baratheon and Princess Aliandra Martell, as the clear representatives of their Houses, made their way inside the chambers.
…
The Council chamber doors opened as King Aegon made his way inside, with Prince Viserys close behind him.
The Kingsguard were all assembled inside, as the Lord Hand had instructed. A few of the lords were quite surprised by this protection measure, including Lord Cregan himself. There were others such as Lord Unwin and Lord Lyonel who scowled, as though they themselves knew why the entire Kingsguard was there.
Lord Alyn Velaryon had finally returned from his voyages, just so he could be present on this highly important day. Taking the furthest seat possible from Lord Unwin, Alyn's casual smirk disappeared when he noticed Princess Aliandra sitting right across from him.
Viserys saw his good-brother's reaction and took note to look in on the matter later. He had, of course, heard the gossip around Court, of Lord Alyn being unfaithful to his Lady Baela with countless women, Princess Aliandra Martell herself being among them.
Regardless of how much he liked Alyn, such disrespect would never sit well with Viserys, especially given the difficulties he himself had faced in his former marriage.
Clearing his throat, Prince Viserys, as Hand, started the meeting with the expected formalities, such as introducing every man and woman sitting at the table, from simple Council members to lords, Lady Elenda Baratheon and of course, the Princess Aliandra.
The first important matter to be discussed: King Aegon's decision to implement a royal decree, recognizing the reign of his mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and as such change the documentation so as to reflect her true title.
The second matter: What would become of the usurper who held the title King Aegon, Second of His Name? Would his title be stripped from him? Would he remain known simply as Prince Aegon? And of course, if that came to pass, would the King himself take on the title that once belonged to his uncle?
As soon as Viserys had finished presenting the two matters before the Council and the House representatives, the loud voices of those opposed could not be stopped. Only two voices, of course, and everyone there expected those two voices to speak against Rhaenyra Targaryen.
"Your Grace, my House has been greatly affected by this war. I lost my father and much more. I beseech you to let the past remain in the past, as we have done so for many years. There has been peace in the Realm." Lyonel Hightower argued.
"Peace at the cost of justice." Isembard Arryn, the Master of Coin, replied at once.
The Gilded Falcon, at thirty years of age, was proud and mighty.
"As it should. Peace is of most importance." Unwin Peake intervened with a wise remark, but one which only served to his advantage.
Not too long after, Lyonel Hightower had slammed his fist on the table and hissed, "Justice. You speak of justice? What do you know of justice, my lord? You, who wears the golden falcon proudly in this Keep, know naught of justice. Should this Council be reminded of how you attempted to steal your own cousin's seat in the Vale?"
Isembard's jaw clenched the mention of the rebellion which had come to pass after the death of Lady Jeyne, the Maiden in the Vale. She had named his cousin, Joffrey, her heir, and yet he had fought to claim the entire Vale for himself. Isembard's rebellion had proved to have no merit, and the years he had spent at Court later on as Master of Coin had taught him much of the proud family motto he had to represent: As High as Honour.
He had done good work for the Crown and had more than atoned for his past mistakes. As for his cousin, Isembard was prepared to show him loyalty, by ensuring the safety of his daughter, Little Jeyne, when she would succeed him as Lady of the Eyrie.
"My Lord Joffrey, do tell us, if you will. Tell us of how your cousin attempted to kill you and take your seat." Lyonel continued to push the matter further, involving the Lord of the Eyrie himself, who had pursed his lips and looked down, not bearing to meet Isembard's gaze.
"That is enough, Lord Hightower! The war in the Vale is of no relevance to the matter at hand!" Viserys raised his tone, his eyes glowing in anger as he looked towards Lyonel.
"My Lord Hand, I speak naught but the truth and the relevance to the matter is quite clear. We are all gathered here in the name of justice but it would appear that the meaning of this word is different for us all. What is justice indeed? For Lord Isembard, it was taking his cousin's seat."
"And for your own House, it was taking the Iron Throne." Aegon finally found his voice, all the while looking straight ahead into nothing.
The accusation weighted heavily in the chambers, as it did many moons before when Princess Visenya had accused the Peakes of their involvement in treason. Now, it seemed that the treason of House Hightower needed to be discussed.
With a small nod, Viserys turned to Lyonel and stated, "Since you seem intent on reopening old wounds, Lord Lyonel, must we remind the Council that the great war had started after your own forebears, Otto and Alicent Hightower, usurped the throne from the rightful heir?"
Lyonel Hightower had chosen to remain silent afterwards, allowing the true matter of recognizing Rhaenyra Targaryen as Queen and the consequences of such a royal decree, to be discussed further.
Everyone present was allowed to speak their mind.
Princess Aliandra Martell had much to say on the cruelty the other six Kingdoms in the Realm showed towards women such as herself. How could Dorne ever be expected to officially join the other Kingdoms in unity, if future Dornish princesses have to fear the possibility of being murdered should the lords of the Realm decide that the Kingdoms are to be ruled by men alone?
Lady Elenda Baratheon had also spoken in favour of Rhaenyra, mentioning how, despite the difficulties in her family, she had enjoyed her position as regent and found it suited her better than she ever thought it would. It also seemed that her subjects in Storm's End thought her a better ruler than her husband had been.
The Baratheons had supported the Greens during the war, and seeing a member of the same House speak in favour of Rhaenyra Targaryen, had destroyed any hopes that Unwin Peake and Lyonel Hightower had to stop the royal decree from being implemented.
Prince Viserys did his best to suppress his smile at the success of the meeting. It had been as he had hoped.
Soon enough, the matter would be finished and Aegon would make the official announcement.
Viserys knew that he wanted to bring the news to Visenya himself. Just to see her smile.
He wished to keep all her smiles for himself.
Closing his eyes, he tuned out the words spoken by the ones around him, as he imagined fair skin, lilac-coloured eyes and bright silver-blonde curls. Viserys let himself think of touching that beautiful skin, take her in his arms and feel her joy at having granted her this undying wish.
As soon as everyone at the table had spoken their mind, it was time for King Aegon to speak.
"My family and I have suffered greatly. Myself, my dear brother, and my sisters…we have all been burdened with mistakes of the past. We have had to bear the loss of our mother and father, as well as our other brothers, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey."
It was at that moment that Lord Cregan had lowered his head, and everyone knew that he was thinking of his brother in arms, the late Prince Jacaerys. There was much to be remembered.
"The war has cost us all. For a full year, men and women had sought naught but to take. Take and take." Aegon's tone lowered, as he added, "I have not asked you here so as to do the same. I am not going to take. I intend to give."
Everyone seated at the table looked towards the King curiously, eager to see what decision he would make. Viserys himself seemed surprised by his brother's words. It was certainly not what they had discussed beforehand.
"My uncle has shown me naught but cruelty. He made me watch as he murdered my mother. Watch as his dragon engulfed her in his flames. He kept me his prisoner…in the darkness…threatened me…and yet, had he chosen to accept defeat, I would have granted him leniency. I would have allowed him to take the black. I would have shown him the mercy he had not shown my mother." Aegon explained, his honest and calming words seeming to reach the hearts of most those present.
Aegon and Viserys locked eyes for a moment, as the King continued speaking.
Everyone took note of how the Lord Hand silently encouraged his brother.
"On this day, to ensure peace, I intend only to give. Not to take. I will allow my uncle to keep the title he had chosen for himself after he murdered my mother. He shall keep it as Maegor the Cruel did. He may be remembered as King for the time he had the throne in his grasp, but a usurper, nonetheless. A cruel king, whom the Gods have sought to punish. As for my mother, on this day, I intend to give her the title she had coveted since my grandsire, King Viserys, named her his heir, and the day the lords of the Realm swore fealty to her. For the time my mother sat the Iron Throne, she is to be known as Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name. The announcement shall be made before the entire Court on this day."
Aegon took a breath, his eyes on the table before him, before whispering, "This meeting is at an end."
…
As soon as the King had declared the end of the meeting, Alyn Velaryon had rushed out the door.
Most were whispering that he wished not to engage in discord with his former friend, Lyonel Hightower, especially after all that had been said during the meeting. Alyn had not cared to extend the Hightower treason to the young man. He had been more than generous and even supported Lyonel's decision to take his father's widow, Lady Samantha, as his own wife. A somewhat friendship had initially brewed between the Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of the Hightower.
However, this friendship which had initiated soon after the war, had eventually faded with time. Lyonel had become cold…repulsed even. And Alyn had an idea that Lyonel had been fed the "bastard" lines over and over again by Lady Samantha of all people. Alyn could not understand why Samantha had started turning her husband against him, especially after all Alyn had done for them.
It seemed that the past would not remain the past. And the lady Alyn thought Samantha Tarly to be, was there no more. In her place was a cruel, ambitious woman, who was determined to create strife, much like Johanna Lannister.
Despite the obvious coldness between Alyn Velaryon and Lyonel Hightower, it was not his former friend's presence which had made him so less composed. It had been the presence of Princess Aliandra.
Alyn rushed through the halls, eager to put as much distance between himself and the Princess of Dorne, only to run into his wife.
Baela was waiting outside their chamber. Her silver-white hair short and messy as he so remembered it. She was wearing red, in honour of her father's House, the small patterns of black dragons barely visible. Her hands were crossed over her chest, as he was well used to seeing her, and a most concerned look crossed her features. She was waiting for him, and as such, blocking the entrance to their chambers.
Some members of the Kingsguard had passed, looking towards them curiously, as Alyn finally came before his wife.
"Baela." He greeted her with a small nod, in a much too formal manner.
Noting her frown, Alyn sighed and with his usual smirk, leaned forward to place his lips to her cheek, comfortingly, as he whispered, "I missed you."
"I should hope so. I am your wife." Baela snapped.
"Let us go inside. I wish to see my daughter." Alyn motioned towards the door, understanding full well that something was wrong yet again.
Stepping aside, Baela let him enter.
Soon after the doors had closed behind them, Baela turned to him and said, "She's our daughter, not just yours. And I should warn you that I do not want to see that woman near my child, or I shall be forced to draw my blade and teach her that Baela Targaryen is not to be shamed!"
Alyn looked around the room, noticing Laena's absence. Monkey was nowhere in sight either. The child was most likely visiting with the Princess Visenya, as she oft did when she was at Court. Alyn had been informed that his daughter was fond of Visenya's dresses, which had once belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm's Delight. He was also informed of how she searched for dresses with the longest possible sleeves, so as she could hide the missing chunk of her arm.
That wingless wyrm which had almost killed his child still haunted Alyn's thoughts. He had barely been able to contain his anger once when Laena had asked him for permission to visit the Dragonpit and see the remaining unhatched eggs of Rhaenyra's dragon, Syrax.
No, he would never risk allowing his daughter to have one of those beasts.
His thoughts drifted back to the woman standing behind him. He could feel her anger. How could he not? And her words…
Turning around slowly, he was prepared to meet her wrath, by asking simply, "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, do not act as though you have not noticed that she is here, Alyn. You saw her. Do not lie to me."
"You mean Princess Aliandra?" Alyn asked, as though already knowing the answer.
"She had the utmost confidence to inform me that you had visited with her on your way to Braavos." Baela accused, her hand gently touching the sword at her hip.
"I have."
At that moment, Baela had pulled out her sword and instantly pressed it to his neck, backing him against the wall.
He hated to admit it, but he loved it when she was like this. That fiery Targaryen spirit, inherited from the Rogue Prince himself. Baela oft knew not how beautiful she was. Sure, she lacked the grace and the gentler nature of her sister, Rhaena. She was no lady…but she was most enticing.
There was no fear in his purple eyes at the feeling of the blade against his throat. He knew she loved him, and this was her way of showing it. She would never share him with any woman…and he wished he could prove to her that she would never have to.
Gazing into her own matching purple eyes, Alyn found himself whispering, "There is something I must tell you."
"Oh?" Baela feigned surprise, even though this was exactly what she wanted to hear from him. She wanted answers.
"I wish to explain my…" Alyn started saying, but Baela had pressed the blade even harder to his throat, and had managed to draw out a bit of blood.
"Your what? Your absence? Your disregard for me and our daughter?" Baela hissed at him.
Continuing to gaze at her longingly despite her aggressiveness, he whispered, "I have a son."
"What?"
"Qoren Martell. He's my son."
The blade slipped from Baela's hands and landed on the floor.
Alyn rubbed at his throat, breathing deeply as he watched his wife's arms tremble, as she backed away from him.
Qoren Martell was now two and ten years of age, and he was the eldest child and heir to Princess Aliandra Martell. The Lady of Sunspear had named him for her own father.
"So, they spoke true. That is what you were doing when you claimed you were off battling the Red Kraken. You bed her."
"Yes."
"Why? Was I not enough for you? If I recall, Alyn, we had just gotten married."
Moving towards her rapidly, Alyn grabbed a hold of her hands and held her firmly so as she would not walk away from him.
"I was not yet adjusted to the married life. My weakness for beautiful women blinded me." he rushed to explain.
It was not oft that he saw Baela's eyes fill with tears.
"How can you be certain that he is yours?" she whispered, not unkindly, but not meeting his gaze.
"I know. He is brown of hair, but his eyes are my true purple."
"Aliandra's husband was Drazenko Rogare. He also had the purple eyes of Valyria." Baela argued.
"He looks like me, Baela. She claims he is mine. And I believe her."
Scoffing, Baela shook her head with a small smirk, looking away just as a tear escaped her eye.
"And what of her younger child? Nymeria, was it? What of her? Is she yours too?"
"No. Aliandra claims Nymeria is Drazenko's."
Leaning forward, Alyn grabbed a hold of her chin and forced her to meet his gaze, although his girl did put up a fight, grabbing a hold of his doublet and trying to push him away.
"I have oft visited the boy when on my voyages. I knew not how to tell you. It happened once, Baela. Once."
"Once was enough." Baela hissed, trying once more to escape his grasp, but failing.
Alyn managed to grip her hip with his other hand, and pull her forward until she crashed into him, his lips meeting hers in a fierce kiss.
Baela's breathing hitched as she struggled with her obvious desire for him. It had been years since he had last touched her this way. Even longer since he had last kissed her with such passion.
The anger and hurt at the revelation would not fade. But in this moment, Baela was determined to enjoy this. Threading her fingers in his long silver-white hair, she pulled him closer and bruised his lips, biting the bottom one as much as she could to draw blood.
"Argh." Alyn hissed, the pain evident but his desire for her would not subside.
He pressed his lips to hers once more, determined to leave her drunk with desire. His breeches tightened.
Mayhaps now that there were no secrets between them, he could finally let himself have her, as he had wanted to for long.
No one would ever believe that the prideful Alyn Velaryon resisted bedding his wife for all these years out of guilt, denying her the chance to have more children…but that was precisely why he had kept his distance.
Finally breaking their kiss, her chest heaving, Baela ignored the bulge in his breaches and asked, "Who else knows?"
"No one. Aliandra has told no one. It matters not in any case for her. You know there are no bastards in Dorne. As long as he is her son, the boy will be Lord of Sunspear."
"How joyous for yourself. You have a prince for a son, who will one day rule Dorne." she replied, bitterly.
"Baela…"
Gripping his hair tighter, Baela pulled at it, exposing his neck.
"This does not leave the room. Laena must not know. And I will not be shamed before the Court. I'm warning you, Alyn. Should I hear any whisper, you will regret it." she managed to say, before releasing him and leaving the chambers.
…
Visenya sighed, closing her eyes at the feel of the brush in her hair. Prudence had insisted on preparing her for this day.
Whatever the decision…Visenya was determined to look her best. It had been the most trying of days. She had not seen either Aegon or Viserys since she had first opened her eyes that morrow.
She had barely slept, thinking of Aegon's words from the previous night. Their mother…the Conqueror's dream…and what of the journal? What had happened to it? If Aegon the Dragon had written down his dreams, why hadn't these words been preserved, as her own father's Valyrian scrolls have been? The constant worrying unnerved her, and her ladies had, of course, noticed it.
They had tried lifting her spirits the entire day by looking through her various dresses and jewels. Even Sarra, who had no interest for such things, joined them. Baela's daughter, Laena, had also accompanied them and had left Visenya's room with a most beautiful lilac coloured dress which was mayhaps much too big for her, but she cared not. She promised to wear it when she was older.
Looking towards her bed, Visenya noticed Elinor finally calming herself. Sarra and Little Jeyne were holding her hands in comfort.
With all the excitement, the girls had decided to get to know one another better by sharing secrets.
As such, the ever-shy Elinor Massey had been convinced by Prudence to speak about Maiden Day's Ball. She had presented herself before King Aegon as a possible bride, but had not been chosen. She had been forced to relive the Maiden's Day curse that was placed upon her, with rumours of her deflowering. Gossip which had cost her the chance to find a husband.
In tears, Elinor had confessed to the girls that the story was true. She had lost her maidenhead before the ball…but not of her own choice.
She had arrived at Court for the ball, but had been grabbed by a man and taken from behind. She had never seen the man's face.
The news shocked Visenya to her core. The rest of her ladies had pulled on their skirts, looking around as if frightened that the same would happen to them.
Visenya had grabbed Elinor's hands and insisted that she tell the King, but Elinor had almost yelled out in horror.
"No, Princess! Please…no one must know of this! If there is any truth to these rumours, I shall be forever ruined. No lord would ever wed me. I beg of you!"
Seeing the desperation in Elinor's eyes, Visenya had complied. But naught would stop her from posting guards at their doors at night. Her ladies were not just guests in the Red Keep. They would be living there for a while. Their protection needed to be ensured.
The dress Visenya had chosen for herself with the aid of her ladies was blood red. As for the jewels, Prudence had suggested the black diamonds, which Visenya just adored.
She sat at her vanity, admiring her appearance and taking in the praises of her ladies, when there was a knock on the doors.
The Kingsguard posted there, announced Prince Viserys.
Visenya rolled her eyes, noticing the way both faces of Little Jeyne and Prudence reddened.
She had to expect that her own ladies would act just as any others at Court, at the mention of the handsome prince. She did not enjoy it.
With a swift nod, to allow her brother to enter, Visenya turned and dismissed her ladies.
All in red, Viserys had entered the chambers and stopped in his tracks when he saw her sitting at her vanity. They had once again chosen to wear the same colour for the occasion. Targaryen red. Fire and blood.
Once they were alone, Viserys had stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking at her through the mirror, whispering, "Ao jurnegon olvie gevie, dōna mandia." You look most beautiful, sweet sister.
High Valyrian. They were alone, and yet he was still choosing to speak to her in their ancestral tongue.
Visenya's lips parted when their eyes locked, but she did not let it last. Standing up and looking away, she replied, "Nyke pendagon hen iderēbagon āeksion syt ñuha aderī naejot sagon valzȳrys." I thought of choosing gold for my soon to be husband.
Looking up, Visenya caught his reaction. Viserys' jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. "Kesā daor emagon naejot zūgagon nūmāzma bona." You will not have to worry about that.
"Drējī? Ao kȳvanon naejot gaomagon ñuha prūmia syt iā arlie tymptir hen aōhon?" Truly? You plan to use my heart for a new game of yours?
Viserys seemed unphased despite her accusations. Perchance, he wished not to speak of the matter. And Visenya had been correct in thinking that, because soon after, he had grabbed her hands in his, holding her gently, as he whispered with a gleaming look in those lilac coloured eyes, "Ērinnon, Visenya. Īlva muña iksis naejot sagon dāria." Victory, Visenya. Our mother is to be queen.
It was this moment he had longed for. To see her eyes light up at the news her delicate ears wished to hear for so long. He wished to make her forget about the Tyrell boy. It mattered not. With the support of the majority of Houses present at Court and the influence of the Tyrells in the Reach, on this day, history is to be changed, and Rhaenyra Targaryen would be announced to the Realm as having been the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Meeting his gaze, Visenya switched to common tongue, asking him, "And what of the usurper?"
His hands still holding onto hers had begun rubbing small circles on her palms in comfort. This would not be something she would wish to hear.
"He is to keep his title. Our brother wished for it."
"What? Why?"
"For peace. For forgiveness. You know how Aegon is."
"Forgiveness?!" Visenya exclaimed, incredulously.
"Very well. Mayhaps not forgiveness, Visenya. But peace, and peace alone. We have risked much in this endeavour. We have risked another war brewing. We have succeeded in avoiding it. And as such, we must not risk anymore. Mother is to be queen for the time she sat the throne, and that is all that matters."
Seeing her bottom lip tremble, Viserys leaned in and cupped her cheek gently, pushing a small strand of hair behind her ear. He raised her chin so as she may look him in the eyes as he told her, "Let him keep the title, sweetling. He was as much a king to this Realm as Maegor had been. Lord Cregan agrees."
"And what of Lyonel Tyrell? Am I still to wed him?" Visenya asked him, taking a step back so as she could be free of his touch.
She had figured that this is what her betrothal meant. Securing the Tyrell support for their mother, and appeasing the entire Reach. She had hoped that with the matter finished, this most unwanted betrothal would fade as well.
Viserys had straightened, his hands clasped behind his back and looking every bit a Hand of the King now. With his eyes travelling all over her body, he switched back to High Valyrian.
"Iksan iēdrosa isse jorrāelagon hen zirȳla." I am still in need of him.
Visenya could only stare at him in shock.
Refusing to play his game, she spoke in the common tongue, "You will not use me so, Viserys! I will not allow it! I will tell the whole Court of your hellish schemes if you do not free me of this betrothal!"
"Hush!" Viserys snapped, looking around, his eyes wild, as though they would soon be discovered.
Then, he cupped her cheeks, stroking them as though he knew that this would weaken her resolve. And so it did.
Closing her eyes on instinct, Visenya leaned into the touch, her own hand coming up to cover one of his own.
And then, she heard his voice. "Three years, Visenya. Three years."
Opening her eyes, Visenya regained the strength to respond. "I care not! Why do you still need this betrothal to stand? Tell me now!"
She gripped his hand tighter, looking at him expectantly.
His thumb was soon pressed to her lips, in an attempt to keep her quiet. It did have the desired effect…and more.
Visenya had taken advantage of this act. She closed her eyes and pressed a small kiss to his thumb, making his eyes widen in shock.
Clearing his throat, Viserys still managed to explain himself, as she had requested.
"Se Tistālior hen Oldtown botagon rōvēgrie. Aderī, kessa dombo sagon isse se ondos hen Hightowers. Yn nyke jorrāelagon tolī jēda. Nyke maghagon Tyhrēl Lentor isse se dārōñe lurugon, se kessi dohaeragon nyke mijegon gīmigon ziry." The Bank of Oldtown is suffering greatly. Soon, it will no longer be in the hands of the Hightowers. But I need more time. I bring House Tyrell in the royal fold, and they will help me without even knowing it.
It was the most he could tell her. She had looked for ways to bring the Hightowers to their knees, and he had found the cleverest and more satisfying way to strike them.
All of this, for her. For her happiness.
Once she had opened her beautiful eyes, her gaze was that of longing. His thumb was still pressed against her lips, and Viserys could feel the tremor in his voice, when he added, "Pāsagon nyke." Trust me.
She continued to look at him…inspect him, even. Questioning his intentions. He didn't like that.
They stayed that way a long while, her hands gripping his, his thumb pressed against her lips, their eyes locked in what looked to be a battle of minds.
And then, her expression changed to that of deviousness.
Viserys could see a plan forming in her mind. It unnerved him.
Pushing his hands away from her face, Visenya leaned forward, her lips close to his own, whispering, "Iotāptenon nyke." Respect me.
She watched the way his breathing hitched at her closeness, his breath fanning her face due to the rapid exhales.
Before Viserys could make sense of what had happened, Visenya was already heading towards the doors, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress a smile of satisfaction.
Let us see how he is to manage his own desires when they interfere with his plans.
As soon as the doors closed behind her, Visenya smiled at the Kingsguard posted there, before making her way to the Great Hall, where everyone was expected for Aegon's announcement.
Even with this betrothal forced upon her, Visenya could no longer find it in her heart to be cross with her brother. He was, after all, scheming as any Hand would, but for the interests of the Crown, the interests of their family and most importantly…her own interests.
But now the game was changing. She has sensed his desire for her. It was fairly obvious. The way he found himself in her presence, the way he spoke to her in High Valyrian, the way he touched her…it was no longer brotherly affection that she felt from him. It was so much more.
For the first time, Visenya was certain that her own feelings were reciprocated, and she was surely to take advantage of that.
…
129 AC
"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
Queen Rhaenyra's screams of pain echoed throughout Dragonstone. She was holding onto her swollen belly, her eyes rimmed red, her face flushed with sweat.
The castle was filled with whispers of what had come to pass in King's Landing. The death of King Viserys and the Greens' treachery, who had taken the throne for themselves. Among these whispers, the firm commands of Prince Daemon were heard throughout the stairwells of Sea Dragon Tower, assembling all knights and lords in the Chamber of the Painted Table.
"This act of treason will not stand, dear cousin! We must make haste and prepare!" Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, had told Daemon, pushing her dark hair to the side and joining her husband, the Sea Snake, around the Painted Table.
Back in the apartments of the new Queen, shrieks and curses could be made out.
Rhaenyra's black fury drove her to wish the utmost pain on her rival, Alicent Hightower, whom she knew was in fact behind this treason.
"Curse her and her most vile sons! May the Gods' wrath strike them! Traitors!" Rhaenyra cried out, more tears streaming down her face as she went from anger to sorrow and then back to anger.
"TRAITORS!" Rhaenyra shrieked even louder, referring to the death of poor Lord Lyman Beesbury, her only defender in that Council of vipers.
And her poor father. The Greens spit on the love and privilege he had bestowed on them. They let his body rot in his chambers. News of the stench in the Red Keep had reached them as well. It had sent Daemon in the greatest rage imaginable.
"Please, Your Grace. You must push. You must." Elinda pleaded, her own eyes filling with tears, heartbroken at seeing her beloved mistress in such a distressed state.
"How horrid.", the most trusted lady-in-waiting whispered, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes closed, just before another loud scream erupted.
Maester Gerardys ignored the Queen's yells and threats, as he continued to assist her the best way he knew how.
The babe was coming early. According to the maester, it should have been in another moon's time.
But Gerardys knew that it was the grief, the pain in Rhaenyra's heart at hearing such news from King's Landing that had sent her into labour. He was doing all he could, but he knew that he had to save his Queen. Whether the babe would be alive or dead when released from her womb, it mattered not. It was the Queen's health which mattered now.
"Your Grace. You must push the babe out now, lest the Stranger takes you on this day! We cannot allow this!"
"No! No! No! My babe! MY BABE!" Rhaenyra cried out, her sorrow overpowering her anger, knowing what the words of her faithful Maester Gerardys meant.
Her babe was dying! No! No! Her girl. Her precious girl. For she knew it was a girl. She had known for moons now, and that is what she had told Daemon as well.
"They will not take her too! THEY WILL NOT TAKE HER!" Rhaenyra cried out, opening her eyes, looking up, and calling out with all her power, "Nyke jorepagon naejot ao! Ȳgha zirȳla!" I pray to you! Save her!
Hours of agony had continued. The screams had not subsided. The comforting touches of her trusted lady-in-waiting and the counsel of the good Maester Gerardys had only increased.
Rhaenyra could barely see anything in front of her eyes. She could only see figures. The figures of the maids behind Elinda, who were moving about.
Her hearing however remained just as good, and she heard the good Maester Gerardys whisper to Elinda, "She's losing too much blood."
"No. No." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice already hoarse from all the screaming. Her anger faded, for a while. She could only focus on the pain, and on her child.
"Be strong. Be strong, Your Grace." Gerardys encouraged, as she felt his hands moving around her private parts.
The Gods had been good, and many hours later, the shrieks which echoed through the castle stairwells were no longer that of the enraged Queen Rhaenyra, but that of her beautiful, but rather small, babe.
"'Tis a girl. A princess." Gerardys told her, as the maids were wrapping the child in fresh cloths.
Elinda had already started cleaning her of all the blood. The warm water soothed her nerves.
"Visenya. My Visenya." Rhaenyra managed to whisper, as she opened her eyes and looked around in a panic.
"Daemon. Where is Daemon?"
"The prince is being told, Your Grace." Gerardys reassured her, rearranging her pillows, so as she may be more comfortable.
"Give her to me." Rhaenyra demanded, closing her eyes in pain at the sound of her voice. Her throat hurt terribly from hours of shrieks.
The maids complied and soon enough, Elinda herself, had taken the babe in her arms and placed her in the arms of the Queen.
"My sweetling. My Visenya." Rhaenyra whispered, holding her close to her breast.
The babe was small, as expected, and she was barely making any noise. But she was alive. The Gods had saved her, and that is what mattered.
In their most darkest hour, the Gods shone light on them through the princess' birth.
Gerardys already had herbs and ointments prepared, when yells were heard outside the apartments.
"Oh, dear me…" he mumbled, shaking his head, as he recognized to whom the voice belonged to.
"Out of my way!" Daemon exclaimed, opening the doors himself, looking around the apartments wildly.
Elinda and the maids immediately stepped away from the bed, knowing that it would not do to stand in the way of the Rogue Prince, lest meet his wrath.
He remained standing, his eyes wide, as he looked towards his wife and newborn.
"Daemon…our Visenya. Visenya." Rhaenyra managed to say, weakly.
As though something had snapped in himself, Daemon strode forward, his steps quite large, as he leaned near the bed, his eyes roaming over his wife, intent on checking her for any injury.
"Attend to my wife!" he ordered, despite the fact that Gerardys already started doing just that, milk of the poppy at the ready.
"Of course, my prince." the maester mumbled.
"She is small. But so beautiful, Daemon." Rhaenyra insisted on speaking to him, despite the pain of it.
"As you were, zaldrītsos. I expect nothing less from the womb of the Realm's Delight." Daemon eventually responded with a smirk, grabbing a hold of her chin with one hand, as he touched the babe's forehead with the other.
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
"I am no longer that, ñuha jorrāelagon." she whispered, sadly.
"Says who?"
"The whole lot of them. I have naught the body of when I was seven and ten."
Daemon scoffed, shaking his head, as he gripped her chin tighter, levelling her eyes with his.
"Of course not. Your body has endured childbirth six times now, sweetling. Your waist attests to your sacrifice and strength. But you are firm, your breasts most delectable. When you are well, you are to look in that mirror and see yourself as I and many others see you. As to those who say different, you should know better than to listen to the foul tongues of your enemies. The thinning of innocence has well passed you…though I would hardly call you such, knowing how much you enjoyed your pleasure even at five and ten."
Daemon couldn't help himself and chuckled at the last part, especially when Rhaenyra found the strength to hit his chest.
"Daemon." Rhaenyra hissed, looking around nervously at the busying maids, Lady Elinda and Maester Gerardys who were all pretending not to hear.
"You are to stop with such crass words, and pay attention to your daughter!" she ordered, moving the silent babe in her arms, directing the Rogue Prince's attention to the Princess Visenya.
Finally taking his child in his arms, Daemon whispered to the babe, "Ah yes, do forgive me, my sweet. I'm afraid you are to fight your beautiful mother here for my attention."
"I worry. She does not cry as most babes do." Rhaenyra told her maester, as she accepted the milk of the poppy for her pain.
Seeing as how the Rogue Prince had moved away from the bed, holding his new-born in his arms, the maids, as well as Elinda, had returned to their work, busying themselves with cleaning their mistress.
"She is weakened, Your Grace. This birth has proved to be most difficult for you, as was to be expected under the circumstances." Maester Gerardys explained, and then added, "I suggest getting her to her wet nurse as soon as possible. But fret not. She is to live. I assure you."
Nodding, Rhaenyra fell into a trance. As tired as she was and as happy as she had felt to have her babe alive and healthy, dark thoughts of what had happened in King's Landing had once again started to consume her.
"She is my one daughter, and they almost took her from me. They stole my crown and let my poor father's body to rot as they plotted, and they shall answer for it." Rhaenyra found herself saying, one hand twirling the rings which had remained on her other hand.
"So, they shall. With fire and blood." Daemon vowed, his eyes not leaving Visenya's sleeping form, as he held her in his arms.
"Mother?"
The voice of Rhaenyra's eldest son, Prince Jacaerys, was heard from behind the doors.
Soon enough, the apartments were filled with the rather loud voices of the children. Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys, Baela and Rhaena, were all eager to greet their newborn sister.
…
145 AC
The Court was silenced in the Great Hall, as King Aegon made his way over to the Iron Throne, with Queen Daenaera by his side.
Baela noticed the whispers starting at once.
While it was not surprising that Aegon was wearing his usual black garments, adorned with the simple gold circlet on top of his head, his straight silver-white hair flowing freely, what was surprising was Queen Daenaera's choice of colour for her dress.
It was for the first time in her life that Daenaera Velaryon was wearing black. Everyone knew how much she favoured teal for her own House, which she oft adorned with dragon patterns since she became queen.
The 'little queen' was the life of the Court, and preferred bright colours to match her light. However, on this day, she was to honour her late good-mother, by wearing the colour of her supporters, the Blacks.
Baela was watching from a distance, intent on standing by herself, so as she could gather her thoughts.
"'Tis a good day, Lady Baela."
Baela turned her head to see Lord Cregan Stark standing next to her, his eyes on Aegon and Daenaera.
"Yes, it is." Baela agreed, though her jaw tightened on instinct.
Mayhaps for House Targaryen, but not for her…not after what Alyn had revealed to her.
"Jace would have been pleased." Cregan commented, a smile of pride on his face.
Jace…
Baela bit the inside of her cheek so hard it was close to bleeding.
How would her life had turned out had he still lived? She was betrothed to him. They were set to be married, and had the Gods granted them justice from the start, she would have been queen now, standing by Jace's side.
She was certain that Jace would have been faithful. He had always been kind, loyal and just. A king in the making, as everyone would say. They had been perfect for one another. Mayhaps she would have been happier.
"He would have indeed, my lord. The Gods are cruel." Baela snapped, not intending to sound so bitter as she spoke to him.
Cregan didn't seem to notice, however. He remained deep in thought.
"He was my greatest friend. My brother, even. Damn them all to the Seven Hells who took him from this world."
Baela could only offer a nod, her eyes glazing with fury, as she made out Alyn in the crowd, standing with Corwyn and Rhaena.
King Aegon was visibly nervous. He was holding onto some parchment, his hands trembling, as he looked between his wife and the crowd waiting to hear his words.
Queen Daenaera cupped his cheeks, leaned in and rested her forehead against his, surprising the Court through her open display of affection. Aegon accepted her kind gesture and even seemed empowered by it.
Suddenly, he turned to Grand Maester Alford and handed him the parchment, shocking the old man.
Everyone understood what this meant. The King was intent on speaking freely before the Court…something very unlike him.
Daenaera took her seat, holding her sons, Daeron and Baelor, close. Aegon turned towards the crowd, the light from outside, reflected in the swords embedded around the Iron Throne.
The King took care of the formalities, thanking each House representative for their presence on this special occasion.
"A sadness within has haunted me for years. Bearing witness to war, to bloodshed…to unnecessary strife!" Aegon spoke loudly, and despite his firmness, a small tremor could still be felt in his tone, as he locked eyes with his brother, Viserys.
"There was a time for sorrow…a time when cruel men deemed to be above the King's word, above truth and law. It is known that a law of succession had yet to be determined. Faced with the matter at hand, my grandsire, King Viserys of House Targaryen, had named his firstborn child, Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne. The lords of the Realm had come forth, swearing oaths of fealty to my mother, promising to uphold her claim upon the death of the King."
Aegon moved his eyes to the floor, the situation overwhelming him entirely, but he continued speaking his mind.
"Many years later, only some deemed their oaths worthy of upholding. Others spat on the proclamations of their own Houses. They spat on honour, on justice and on the Crown itself. They murdered my brother, Lucerys Velaryon. And as such, began a war between oathkeepers and oathbreakers, which tore the Realm apart."
Taking a deep breath, Aegon looked back towards the many faces watching him. He was not about to bring up much of what had come to pass.
"I am not here before you on this day, to take. Only to give. I am to announce that the law of succession is to be amended, allowing firstborn children, whether they be sons or daughters, to ascend the throne."
The whispers had begun, but Aegon paid them no mind. The decision of the Crown would be respected this time, lest they wished for another war to take away everything they held dear.
With a clear and decisive tone, Aegon exclaimed, "With the support of the many lords who had fought to bring her justice, in honour of my grandsire and my House, I hereby reaffirm my mother, Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"
Applause erupted in the Great Hall.
…
A private meal, with just the family, followed that evening in the chambers of the King.
There was plenty of talk, laughter and ease among them.
It was as though for the first time in many years, there was peace of mind.
The great matter had been put to rest and Rhaenyra Targaryen had been given the recognition she deserved.
Visenya was glowing with pride and joy on a day that was naught to be forgotten. She was pleased to see that Aegon was granting them all the privilege of seeing him smile as well, although he did look incredibly tired. The day had taken a lot out of him, and although he most likely would have preferred to retire, he was willing to make this sacrifice, so as he could dine with his family on this most special day.
Viserys was smiling too, jesting with Alyn and Corwyn, as Daenaera, Baela and Rhaena discussed the looks of disgust on the faces of Unwin and Gedmund Peake while the announcement had been made.
Suddenly, a chair was moved back, and everyone turned to see Visenya standing with a cup of Arbor Gold in her hands.
"I should like to make a toast!" she announced, and everyone immediately found a full cup of their own to raise.
"To my mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name!" Visenya declared, sharing smiles with Aegon and Viserys.
"To the Dragon Queen!" Alyn exclaimed in turn, raising his cup in support.
"Hear, hear!" Baela and Rhaena exclaimed in unison, and they all downed the wine.