"I know what this is. I know what this is." Gedmund mumbled to himself as he paced in the throne room at Starpike. His nephew, Unwin, was seated in his chair, gazing at his ring finger with a smirk on his face, deep in thought.
"I am telling you, nephew, it is happening all over again. We have made promises to keep the Realm at peace, but the Targaryens are intent on breaking that promise once more. You should not stand for it. You should be sending ravens to Casterly Rock and Oldtown as we speak." Gedmund was raving.
"All in due time, nuncle. What you tell me is not surprising. They pushed me to resign as Hand, they took away my chance to make my daughter the Queen. And now, they intend to replace you too."
"With Alyn Velaryon of all people! That scum! A bastard! A bastard that whore of a Queen of theirs legitimized. She was no Queen, so how is he Lord of Driftmark? And her daughter…her blasted daughter made a fool of me before all the Council members! You should have been there, Unwin! You should have seen!" Gedmund raged, speaking freely, while at the same time, looking around the room to make sure that they were truly alone.
"Princess Visenya is as rotten and brazen as her mother. She was discrediting you, nuncle. So as to convince His Grace to replace you. The Velaryons already have their Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. They intend to take more, and the Targaryens let them.", Unwin explained, and then eyed Gedmund quizzically. "And you know why."
"Why?" Gedmund asked, lowering his voice, once again his eyes fixed on the walls, as if he was certain that there was someone hidden there, hearing every word, ready to report to the King.
"They are Valyrian. And the Targaryens are always going to favor their kin. It will not be long until the entire Small Council will be filled with them."
"Gods be good." Gedmund whispered and started pacing again.
Cracking his knuckles, Unwin stared ahead on his throne and declared, "The Hightowers and the Lannisters still hold influence. They have the most gold. The Bank of Oldtown is thriving. The Targaryens remain with one single dragon, and likely none in the near future. The Velaryons are not the power that they once were. The great fortune amassed by Corlys Velaryon had been squandered, and they now rely on Alyn's voyages for their next meal."
The two men shared a few laughs. Unwin, rubbed his chin, a gleam in his eyes, "Worry not, nuncle. As long as I draw breath, the Targaryens will not have their way."
…
Samantha Tarly scrunched her nose, as she crossed something off. The finances of the Bank of Oldtown were not making any sense to her. She herself had been in charge of making it as grand as it became.
"You will never believe this!" Lyonel Hightower barged into the rooms, holding up an unsealed letter in his hands.
Putting down her quill, Samantha stood up and immediately went over to him. "What is it, Lord Husband?"
"Unwin Peake has just written me. Ser Gedmund had participated at the last Council meeting and has given him the most horrific news."
"What news?"
"The King announced that he is planning to give his mother the title Queen, and recognize her reign!" Lyonel snapped, his nostrils flaring, thrusting the letter into Samantha's hands.
Samantha looked over the letter, her eyes widening. "They cannot be serious. So many years have passed since the end of that war. We have all lived peacefully. Why stir up trouble now?"
"Read that! Princess Visenya herself told the Council that the Crown is planning on making things right, whatever that is! Whatever is right in their minds? Are they going to give my father back his life?!"
"Calm yourself, husband. We must not make a scene." Samantha looked towards the doors, knowing for certain that the guards had been listening.
In any case, Samantha was certainly grateful that her former husband was no longer alive. He would have never been able to offer her true happiness. Ormund enjoyed bedding her, certainly, but he was old and could never make her feel satisfied. His son, on the other hand, was younger, less intelligent and far easier to manage. She knew as soon as her husband died, who her target was, if she wished to remain Lady Hightower.
"They know how much this would disturb the Lords who have supported the rightful king!" Lyonel continued saying.
"You must not speak of him." Samantha wisely advised him.
"That whore's army had my father killed! And now her son sits the throne! It is her bloodline. Hers! But that is not enough for them. That family got everything they ever wanted. The biggest army, the most dragons, the Iron Throne, they killed our poor little queen Jaehaera and ended the rightful ruler's bloodline and now they want that bitch to bear the title Queen in histories! We will not go!"
Samantha sighed and folded the letter, contemplating. She was not pleased about the news either. Rhaenyra Targaryen cost her the lives of many of her kin, even those who have fought for her claim. Why should someone like her be given any honors?
"Husband, you most certainly cannot be suggesting that little girl was murdered. Who could be responsible?"
"Black supporters! The lot of them who remained at the Keep, steering the young King wrongly. They claimed they wanted peace, but they lied. They had that girl killed and replaced her with someone from the kin they favor." Lyonel hissed and then snatched the letter from her hands, yelling, "AND NOW THIS!"
"This is not the King's doing. You know how he is." Samantha shushed him, and took hold of his cheeks.
"Certainly. Afraid of his own shadow, that boy. He doesn't have the nerve. It's his sister. His sister poisoning his mind. With their customs, I would not be surprised if she warms his bed on the nights that his Queen doesn't."
Using her womanly charms, Samantha rubbed his neck and trailed kisses under his chin.
"We have our children to consider, dear husband. You know how people still question their legitimacy. If we are summoned, we will go to King's Landing. But we will make our case there. We will not give our approval. The law of succession now clearly states that only a male heir can inherit the Iron Throne. If the Targaryens change it now, it will once again destabilize the Realm, just as it happened when King Viserys named his daughter heir. By the laws of Gods and Men, his son, Aegon the Second of His Name, was the lawful King."
Lyonel let out a soft moan, when he felt Samantha's hand move towards the bulge in his breeches. This woman has always had a great effect on him. She had managed to seduce him long before his father, her former husband, died. She spurned him, but that only made him want her more.
"You're right, my dear. You're always right."
Pulling back, Samantha smiled smugly and said, "We will bide our time and use it to our advantage."
…
The Dragonpit, atop the Hill of Rhaenys, was filled with laughter, when Visenya walked in. A small smile of her own crossed her face as she noticed Rhaena feeding Morning, while the full-grown pink dragon would not stop nuzzling her face in delight.
"My beauty." Rhaena whispered and leaned in, their foreheads touching.
How lucky she was, Visenya thought. She herself longed to feel a powerful connection to one of these magnificent creatures. Dragons were part of them. Without them, Targaryens could never hope to feel whole ever again.
Despite his fears, Aegon understood that, and agreed to the reconstruction of the Dragonpit after that terrible mob had all the dragons killed during the war.
Visenya could never understand why they would do such a thing. The anger and the hunger the smallfolk felt at that time was caused by the Greens. It was their faction who stole all the gold from the royal coffers and left them to starve. In their desperation, the people directed all of their anger towards these wonderous beings who did them no harm.
Dragons are not beasts. They are powerful, a force to reckoned with, but often misunderstood. And now, there was just one. Morning…the beautiful pink dragon who gave the Blacks hope when they thought all was lost. She hatched soon after the death of Queen Rhaenyra, and gave the Black forces something to fight for. She was the symbol of hope for a new and better Targaryen dynasty to rise from the ashes.
But unfortunately, her presence here in King's Landing was not enough. In order for House Targaryen to be seen as the true power in the Realm once again, they needed more. More dragon eggs to hatch. Aegon brought all the remaining eggs from Dragonstone, and kept them in the warmth of the Dragonpit.
Visenya gazed over them. There were six…stone cold. The eggs brought into the world by her mother's dragon, Syrax, when she mated with her father's dragon, Caraxes. As a matter of fact, Morning herself was born from an egg belonging to this same clutch. She was a survivor. The other eggs however, had remained stone cold, regardless of how much Aegon had tried to hatch them in the past.
Dressed in a midnight purple colored dress, with golden patterns of dragons interlacing her sleeves, Visenya walked over to the dragon eggs and pressed her hands on one of a very dark red color.
"Sīmonagon. Kostilus, sīmonagon." Visenya whispered. Rise. Please, rise.
Mayhaps all was lost for these dragon eggs. Mayhaps, they needed new ones. Morning was now a full-grown dragon…but who would she mate with?
"īlon jorrāelagon ao." Visenya said, while caressing all the six dragon eggs. We need you.
"High Valyrian?" Rhaena asked, startling the young Princess.
Pushing her hair behind her shoulders, Visenya nodded and stated proudly, "I have been taking lessons for a few years now. Viserys knows it by heart, of course, since he spent his childhood in Lys. Aegon does not really bother, though. I have never heard him speak it. The language is part of our heritage. It would not do well for the last Targaryens to ignore their culture and leave it to fade away with time."
Nodding, Rhaena replied, "Indeed. We are the blood of Old Valyria. I admit, I stopped using it after Father died. Did not see the point of it all. Father was the one with the greatest passion for our heritage. Without him, everything seemed so…hopeless."
Letting out a soft sigh, Visenya placed her second hand on a dark gray dragon egg and said,"īlon jorrāelagon naejot mīsagon īlva udrir". We need to protect our language.
"Kessa, īlon jāhor.", Rhaena responded, her accent a little strange, having not spoken any Valyrian words for over five and ten years. Yes, we will.
The two kept quiet for a few moments, watching with interest the different colors of the dragon eggs which have remained cold over the years.
"Aegon tried everything." Visenya eventually whispered with sadness.
"Mayhaps they should be at Dragonstone. Even Morning favors it there." Rhaena offered, but Visenya instantly shook her head.
"No. It's too cold. Dragons may favor the weather there but the eggs need warmth. We cannot part with them. They would be all alone."
Visenya felt a tear escape her eye, and wiped it away, sniffling a little. She felt Rhaena's hands on her shoulders.
"We will find a way. This is not the end. Morning gave us hope for victory. And I am certain she will not be the last of her kind." she whispered in the Princess' ear.
"Your comfort means a lot, sister." Visenya smiled, appreciatively.
"We have a lot of time to make up for, do we not? I hear you and Baela have started mending fences as well."
"I said certain things…she heard them. And she promised to do better from now on. We need one another, now more than ever." Visenya explained.
"I know how she may seem, but do not be too hard on her, Visenya. Baela has had her own share of troubles for the past few years. What with Alyn and…" Rhaena suddenly stopped her talking and snapped her mouth shut, her eyes leaving her sister's and wandering over to Morning.
Intrigued, Visenya was about to follow up with a question, but Rhaena was insistent on changing the subject. "You said you wished to meet Morning. Come, let me show you my beauty."
Hearing Rhaena's steps approaching, Morning raised her head up high and let out an adorable whining sound. This made Rhaena's smile widen as she gazed at her mount with pride.
"She always does that when I come to her." The elder sister explained, pulling her hair back.
Visenya watched carefully as Rhaena placed her hands on the pale pink scales, and pressed a small kiss to her nuzzle. Morning let out another sound of gratitude and happiness at the affection shown, and closed her eyes.
"My pink beauty." Rhaena continued to whisper as she caressed her.
"May I?" Visenya asked, most eager to feel the dragon's scales, as well as those dark horns.
"Of course! I think you are the only one in the family who hasn't interacted with Morning at all." Rhaena said, taking Visenya's palm and pressing it to Morning's scales herself.
Visenya gasped, a glowing smile immediately appearing on her face, as her light purple eyes held back tears of joy. How much she had loved Morning from afar, and hoped to the Gods above that more dragons would follow her in the skies, crying out happily, for the entire Realm to hear.
The true strength and beauty of House Targaryen…witnessed by all, whether it be lords, ladies, smallfolk, maesters, or septas.
Visenya suddenly realized what Rhaena had just told her.
"You mean…Aegon touched Morning? When?" she exclaimed.
"It was a few years ago, before the wyrm that attacked Laena hatched. After that…"
"Yes, I know. He had just started to get over his fear of dragons. He was trying to hatch the eggs. After what happened to Laena, naught was what it should have been." Visenya replied, watching as Rhaena finally removed her own hand and let her pet Morning all on her own.
"She is most gentle." Rhaena said, encouraging Visenya in her movements.
"I know. Dragons normally do not allow anyone aside from their riders near them, do they?"
Visenya herself knew of how her mother's dragon, Syrax met her demise. When her half-brother, Joffrey, attempted to stop the storming of the Dragonpit, he bravely mounted Syrax, but the she-dragon did not accept him. They both died that night.
Rhaena nodded, but told her, "Morning is special."
"She is. She brought hope to my mother's soldiers. We would never have won if it hadn't been for her." Visenya whispered, and then locked eyes with Morning, who studied her carefully.
"You were a beacon of hope. How I wish more of you would come to be.", she told the dragon.
"There will be more." Rhaena told her, convincingly, and added, "We are Targaryens. Dragons are part of our heritage. We are connected and we would cease to exist without them."
"Then we shall need dragonkeepers once more, will we not?" Visenya asked and smiled, a smile that Rhaena returned.
The two sisters bid Morning farewell and returned to Aegon's Hill. Upon reaching the Red Keep, Visenya heard the noise which only steel could make, coming from the Godswood.
"Someone must be training hard." Rhaena remarked, hearing the same noise. She excused herself and met with her husband in the halls, whereas Visenya turned around, determined to see who was making the ruckus.
With a grin, Visenya leaned against one of the trees, as she watched Viserys wield their father's sword, Dark Sister. He had changed into red and black armor and was sparing with those wooden parts used for training.
After a few more swings, Viserys was gasping for breath, wiping away the sweat from his forehead. He pushed his silver-golden locks from his eyes, and turned around, noticing her presence.
"Sister." he greeted her simply, with no emotion whatsoever.
With a slight frown, Visenya responded in the same manner, "Brother."
Viserys looked her over, mayhaps a little too intensely, but seriously, before returning his gaze to the wooden figure and wielding Dark Sister once more.
Realizing that he was unwilling to engage in conversation with her, Visenya decided she would force him. With her hands behind her back, she strolled over to his side and whispered, "Are you still cross with me?"
With a final blow, Viserys gasped in exhaustion, and ended his training for the day. He felt her near, but he would not turn around.
"Did you send the ravens?" he asked.
"Yes." Visenya snapped, her eyes rolling.
This was the Viserys she knew. Regardless of his affection towards his family, his work as Hand always came first since his appointment over two years before. He took pride in his work, and he was good at it too, but Visenya knew that he was so much more. The smallfolk used to cheer for him, and due to his great physical similarities to their father, they used to shout out "Prince of the City reborn" when they saw him.
And Viserys did have the features, the charm, the wit and the shrewdness to be considered another Daemon Targaryen. But he was wiser, sharper, and despite his frequent visits to the Street of Silk, he was more careful about protecting his image and that of the royal family. He was not as impulsive and as spirited as their father had been.
Sometimes Visenya wished he was. Simply to get some sort of emotion out of him. He was always so serious…it bothered her when she was a child. Now, it absolutely infuriated her, for some reason. Perchance because she was used to the attention.
Visenya was mayhaps the most beautiful maiden in the Realm. People oft told her how much she resembled her mother, both in looks and in temperament. At six and ten, she had been noticing the lustful watch of young men when she passed. They seemed to not be able to help themselves, but at the same time they bowed their heads in shame. The Princess now knew that her beauty attracted the eyes of men all around. But for some reason, not the eyes of the man that interested her most.
"Then I am no longer cross." Viserys eventually responded and finally turned to look at her, analyzing her from head to toe.
Visenya's eyes lit up with hope, as it did oft times when she was a child. She hated the effect he had on her.
He watched her, as she raised her hand over to Dark Sister, feeling the blade with her fingertips. The same blade that her father wielded so bravely in battle. Nothing felt as powerful as Valyrian steel…except mayhaps a dragon.
"Rhaena told me that Corwyn will present his findings on the amendment of the succession law this day.", she changed the subject.
"Indeed. The Council will meet in a short while."
Viserys looked like he was pondering his next words, while he studied her confused face. Eventually, he said, "You will not be attending."
At these words, Visenya knew that he was expecting her to throw a tantrum, as she oft did when she did not have her way. She would pout and cross her hands over her chest defiantly, but for some reason, she did not feel like doing so this day.
For some reason, when she looked at him, Visenya could feel naught but sadness at the prospect of him pushing her away, but she decided to act strong and reply only with, "If that is your wish, Lord Hand."
Without another word, Visenya turned around and was about to return to her chambers, when Viserys grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her back. He was distraught.
As he held onto her arm, Viserys whispered, "This is not a punishment."
"Oh, I know. You only do what is best for me, dear brother." Visenya replied with a small smile and Viserys scoffed at the tinge of sarcasm he felt in her voice.
"Why must you always be so difficult?" he asked, softly.
"Ao mazverdagon nyke sīr." Visenya immediately responded. You make me so.
The sound of High Valyrian flowed freely from her lips, as if she had been speaking it all her life. She watched proudly as his face turned to shock.
"Ao ȳdragon ziry? Pār skori?" he asked with intrigue. You speak it? Since when?
"Nyke gūrēntan, jorrāelagon lēkia." Visenya replied, a look of mischief on her face. I learned, dear brother.
"Ao ūndan se zaldrīzes drōma tubī?" he asked her. You saw the dragon eggs today?
"Kessa."
Studying her carefully, Viserys finally gave her one of his signature smirks, before saying in common tongue, "Then I may have some books of interest to you."
"Books?"
"Belonging to Father. Histories of Old Valyria."
"I would love to have them."
Nodding, Viserys pushed a strand of hair away from her face and told her, "Then, they're yours."
Gazing down at the sword he still held in his hand, Visenya got a mischievous look on her face. She knew that she was risking a lot with this, but…she refused to spend another moment talking with Viserys as if they were naught more than acquaintances.
Without giving Viserys a chance to catch on to her plan, Visenya snatched the sword from his hand and ran away from him, through the Godswood, and to the halls of the Keep.
"Visenya!" She heard her enraged brother call out and heard the hurried footsteps that followed her.
She knew that he would catch her soon enough, as her dress was making it impossible to move as she would have preferred, not to mention that the sword was pretty heavy as well, but this felt incredible.
Letting out a giggle, Visenya smiled and yelled out, "Catch me, brother!"
Visenya would have wanted to run all the way up to her chambers, but realized that she would never make it before Viserys caught her, so she turned around and circled the halls, before running out into the Godswood once more.
Once reaching the tallest and oldest of the trees, Visenya felt his hands clasp around her waist, pulling her to a halt. But this did not stop there, as the Princess dropped the sword and fell onto the grass in giggles, Viserys falling right on top of her.
Her eyes lit up as they met his. She almost gasped at seeing that grin on his face which always made her knees wobble. They remained in that position, her back touching the soft grass, her silver-blonde curls spread out, almost like a lion's mane. Her purple dress has risen up, leaving part of her underclothes and thighs in full display. Him on top of her, his hands around her head, his chest pressing tightly against her breasts.
Almost unconsciously, Visenya raised her hand over to his own disheveled hair and attempted to rearrange it, threading her fingers through the soft, but much shorter curls that matched her own in color.
Aegon had always been the one with the more distinctive Valyrian features. Straight and very pale silver hair, reaching his shoulders and eyes the darkest purple ever seen on a Targaryen. His face soft and skin as pale as the color of his hair. Their mother's nose on him as well…a nose Visenya had as well. Her and Viserys, on the other hand, shared the same silver-golden curls, his being a whole lot shorter than Aegon's. And the eyes…the two of them shared their father's eyes.
"Ānogar ānograro." Visenya found herself mumbling, never breaking eye contact with him. Blood of my blood.
She saw the flicker in his eyes…almost like he was completely consumed by her…enchanted even.
But the moment vanished as quickly as it came. Taking her hand from his hair, Viserys pulled himself up and her along with him.
Rearranging his armor, Viserys looked around, his eyes analyzing every single corridor and balcony overlooking inside, in the Godswood. Visenya rearranged her dress, her cheeks warm, and looked around as well, noticing that luckily, no one had been there to witness this moment.
Viserys cleared his throat and grabbed Dark Sister, looking at the sword while speaking. "I shall send you the books. Now, I have a Council meeting to prepare for. I bid you good day, sister."
Without meeting her eyes, he walked rather quickly into the corridors.
"Viserys…" Visenya whispered, but certain that he had not heard her. And even if he had…he would have never turned around.
Had she upset him even more? Visenya bit her lip and looked down, feeling even more hopeless than she did before. She thought she would bring out something pleasant in him…that they would attempt to have a bit of…fun, even. Had she been so wrong? Did he despise her?
Visenya could barely move her feet as she made her way slowly to her own chambers, hoping to the Gods that she wouldn't run into any of the septas. The last thing she needed would be their judgy eyes analyzing the state of her dress, her disheveled hair, or the redness of her cheeks, which she was sure was still there.
These women of the Faith had felt deeply insulted by her refusal to allow them to teach her in her youth. Seeing the closeness between her and Lady Elinda Massey as well as considering the horrors which Queen Daenaera herself suffered with several ladies in her company, King Aegon decided to oblige and make his sister as comfortable as possible.
Picking up the pace, Visenya hoped to erase any sense of uncomfortableness. What had transpired in the Godswood was something she did not feel like sharing with anyone…not even Elinda.
…
The waves crashed into the stones of Castle Driftmark, and startled its Lady, who had been deep in thought.
The waves had never bothered her, as they did Rhaena. Then again, Rhaena had spent the better part of her life in the Vale, both during and after the war. Baela, on the other hand, had been destined to rule this ancestral Valyrian island alongside her husband, as her grandmother had been destined before her. Another Targaryen as the Lady of Driftmark.
But Baela was also half Velaryon, and as such, the people of the island respected her just as much as they did Alyn. Oft-times, Baela got the impression that they relied on her a lot more than they did Alyn. Mayhaps because she was Lord Corlys' granddaughter. Or mayhaps because Alyn's parentage remained uncertain.
Regardless, Baela would never encourage any such talk about her husband in front of her. And if she were informed of such gossips, fitting punishments would follow. Because now, this was not something that could affect just him…it could affect their daughter as well.
"Mama?"
Baela turned around and noticed that her young daughter had been watching behind the door.
"Come here, sweet girl." she replied with a smile and held out her arms.
Laena rushed forward in her light blue dress, her silver-blonde curls dangling freely. Baela took her into her arms and kissed her cheek, sitting herself on a chair, and Laena in her lap.
"Why do you no longer wear a dress?" the young girl asked, and Baela let out a chuckle.
Indeed, since they have been back at Driftmark, Baela no longer saw the point of wearing something which didn't define her. The black leggings were a much better fit. She could care not what was whispered about her. She remained a beautiful lady even with her hair cropped short, her boyish clothes, and her father's personality.
"Because this is much better." Baela responded to her daughter's question with a wink.
Despite Laena being her daughter, Baela noticed the similarities between her and Rhaena. Both liked their hair long, both were a fond of beautiful dresses, they were kind, gentle and had lady-like mannerism. The blonde tinge in her curls was something that Laena had gotten from her namesake, however, as Alyn, Baela and Rhaena all had pale silver-white hair.
"Papa has to leave again, doesn't he?" Laena asked with a small pout.
Sighing, Baela took her daughter's hand and whispered, "He does. But he will not be gone for long. And this will be his last journey in a long while. Because he told me he wishes to stay home."
"Home here or in King's Landing?" Laena asked.
"It depends on what your father wants to do. If he wants to occupy a position on the Small Council again and the King would allow it, then yes, we will live with Aunt Rhaena in King's Landing."
"And Princess Visenya!" Laena exclaimed with a smile.
Baela knew how much her little Laena was fond of the Princess.
"You like her, don't you?"
"Yes. She said that next time I come to King's Landing, she will let me choose whichever dress of hers I want, and I will get to keep it. Her dresses are really pretty."
"That was kind of her." Baela remarked with a small smile.
After their little discussion back in King's Landing, Visenya and Baela had finally come to a certain understanding. Visenya's headstrong attitude reminded Baela a lot of her own. Neither would relent. But neither would have to. As long as they were on the same side.
In truth, Baela had let go of her little jealousy towards her younger sister a long while ago. After all, she was a woman grown, a mother. It would not do to hold on to such childish resentment. But now, Baela could not help but feel a little envious of Visenya for other reasons.
She was young, she was beautiful, as beautiful as her mother had been. She was desired by men all around. That part of Baela's life was over. But for some reason, she never felt like she actually lived it herself. Rhaena had always been the pleasant Dragon Twin, the one which others fawned over. Although beautiful herself, Baela's boyish ways had kept men away in her youth, even though she herself desired them.
All but one. Her husband, Alyn. She had run to him, confided in him so soon after the Council had been plotting her marriage. She was a Targaryen, daughter of the Rogue Prince and she refused to be used as a chess piece on a board by lesser men.
Alyn and her had been through war together. They knew each other well, and despite her having been betrothed to her cousin, Jacaerys Velaryon, Baela had sensed Alyn's interest in her for the longest of time.
Upon hearing of the dreaded match, which the Council of regents had made for her, Alyn had taken Baela into his arms and announced that they would elope. Baela was touched by his words. From the way he spoke, she knew that he still wanted her for himself. She never thought that she would get over Jacaerys' death, but in the arms of her dear friend, Alyn, she realized that she had been given a real chance.
They had been madly in love for the first years of their marriage. Aegon had borne them no ill will for having married without permission, despite what the regents said. Alyn was the Lord of the Tides, which made Baela the new Lady of Driftmark, succeeding her grandmother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Although House Velaryon was no longer the power that it had been before the war, with Alyn and Baela at the helm, everything looked promising.
But then came the birth of the little girl Baela now held in her arms. Laena had been born while Alyn was in another one of his voyages. He had brought back the long-lost Prince Viserys to King's Landing, to Aegon's greatest joy. And then, he had seen her holding their baby. A baby he had hoped would be a boy. Alas, it was a girl, a girl Baela named in honor of her mother.
And although his disappointment never showed, and he had filled little Laena's life with gifts and the greatest love a father could bear for a daughter, their marriage had never been the same.
Baela was startled out of her thoughts when certain noises could be heard from outside her rooms. Maids running around, yelling at one another. Baela heard the word 'monkey' coming out of their mouths and sighed, as Laena let out a few giggles.
Alyn had gifted Baela a monkey on her first name day after their marriage. A pet Baela thought it funny to name 'Monkey'. She loved the wild animal, and cared not of the trouble she had caused the staff for years. Her daughter and herself were the only ones who had the power to calm the poor creature.
"Go ahead, dear, go get Monkey." Baela told her, as Laena rushed out of the room in her skirts.
Taking a deep breath, Baela herself walked out, but headed not towards the noise, but to her husband's chambers. She didn't bother knocking and the guards let her in without saying a word.
Alyn was overlooking the maps, looking all strapped and ready for departure. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing his lady wife, glaring at him, her hands crossed over her chest.
"Something I can help you with?" he asked.
"You were planning on leaving without saying goodbye, then?" Baela snapped immediately after.
Scoffing, Alyn rolled up one of the charts and looked her in the eyes.
"No, of course not. I was coming to see you and Laena." Alyn said, his temper matching hers.
With her eyes feigning shock, Baela told him, "Oh, were you? I am surprised you still care for appearances. Not like it would make a difference. The maids and even the guards know you have not visited my chambers for more than a small moment these past few years."
"That's enough, Baela!" Alyn raised his voice, this time not caring who could hear.
"I should hope that you remember you have a wife and child on these new voyages of yours. And at least make certain that I do not find that wretched smell of Lyseni perfume on you when you return. The tastes of these whores of yours are sickening!"
"You have a vivid imagination, and I grow tired of your accusations!"
"You want a son so badly but you do not visit my bedchambers so I could get started on making you one! I am nine and twenty already, Alyn! Spend more time of yours in such ways and I will be well past my childbearing years. What will you do then? Replace me? The people of Driftmark only accept you for love of me."
Grabbing a hold of her shoulders, Alyn shook her and exclaimed, "Enough!"
Baela kept a strong face, even though she felt the tears threatening to spill. She had not cried in front of him since the day he asked her to elope with him, and she would be damned if she would show him any sort of weakness now.
Alyn's hold on her softened as he stared deeply into her eyes.
"Enough." he whispered once more, and Baela remained silent. Her voice had relented but her eyes continued to show defiance.
"I am going to see Laena. Hopefully she's not with that monkey." He stated and left the room, as Baela continued to stare into the fireplace.