King's Landing, The Red Keep – 128 AC

Stalking down the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, I felt a tempest of emotions swirling within me. Fury was at the forefront, burning like wildfire in my veins, but beneath it was a gnawing fear for my family's safety. Every step I took seemed to echo with the weight of the situation, the stakes higher than they had ever been. Laena and our twins were close behind, their presence a steadying force amid the chaos. I glanced back at them, my heart clenching with a mix of love and protectiveness. The sight of our most loyal guards from Bloodstone flanking us provided some comfort, but it wasn't enough to quell the unease gnawing in my mind. Trusting the security of King's Landing seemed foolish after hearing about the attack on Orys Baratheon. It was a relief to see the Golden Cloaks guarding the castle, my niece was swift to secure the place.

When the letter arrived informing me of the attack on Orys and the impending trial of House Hightower, I felt a rage unlike any I'd ever known. The thought of my blood, my family, being threatened ignited a fire within me. I could not remember a single instance where I had shared a meaningful conversation with Aegon but hearing about his recent mockery of House Hightower's beliefs had amused me. It made me see Aegon in a kinder light, a shift in perspective that was as surprising as it was grudgingly welcome.

The initial rage gave way to a perverse satisfaction. Finally, I would witness the downfall of House Hightower. Their tower would crumble, and the Greens would lose their hold. The thought made me want to laugh, a dark and triumphant laughter that had been brewing for years. We prepared swiftly, and now, we were at the Red Keep, ready to face whatever came next.

As we entered the royal apartments, we were met by Rhaenys and Corlys. Laena quickly went to her parents, the twins following suit, greeting their grandparents with the enthusiasm only children possess. I turned to Rhaenys, my cousin, and asked where everyone was.

"Rhaenyra and Laenor are busy greeting the nobles and preparing for the trial," Rhaenys explained. "The children are in the Baratheon apartments. It's the last place anyone would expect. Our enemies would think they're at the Targaryen or Velaryon apartments."

I nodded, agreeing with her assessment. It was a clever move. Sending Baela and Rhaena with a group of guards to join their cousins felt like the right call. Once the twins were safely on their way, Laena and I followed Corlys and Rhaenys into a private alcove. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken questions.

"What in the seven hells is going on?" I asked, my voice a low growl.

Rhaenys sighed, exchanging a glance with Corlys before answering. "The attack on Orys was orchestrated by the Hightowers. They used their influence over House Baratheon's maester to manipulate Borros, but it backfired when Borros started relying less on the maester. The Hightowers got desperate and sent Ser Myles and Ser Bryndon Hightower to carry out the attack."

"Borros killed the maester when he found out," Corlys added, his tone grim. "We have enough proof to condemn House Hightower. Rhaenyra is overseeing the trial."

I felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought of the Hightowers facing justice. But there was still a nagging question. "How did they get so close to the royal nursery with weapons?"

"Borros's maester was their inside man," Rhaenys explained. "He facilitated their entry."

I clenched my fists, the urge to mount Caraxes and rain fire upon Old Town burning within me. But I knew better. Westeros might know me as the Rogue Prince, but there was a reason why I was able to raise the Golden Cloaks to the prestige they are now and why I was the first person to claim and maintain the Stepstones. I was strategic when needed, and a bloodbath would only fuel the Faith Militant and turn the other lords and ladies of Westeros against us. I still recall my grandmother's stories about all the suffering the Faith Militant brought to House Targaryen, and I wish not to restart those flames. We needed a different approach.

Rhaenyra had tried to quell her siblings' bloodlust, and it seemed to have worked. For now. I admired her for it. She had grown into a wise and compassionate leader, a stark contrast to the path I had nearly taken.

"We need to be strategic," I said, my voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "A show of strength, but not recklessness. We must ensure that the trial is seen as just and fair."

Laena placed a hand on my arm, her touch grounding me. "We'll get through this, Daemon," she said softly. "For our family, for our children."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. The trial would be a turning point, not just for House Targaryen, but for all of Westeros. We had to navigate it carefully. We settled into the alcove to discuss our next steps. The Hightowers would fall, and we would ensure that our family and our legacy endured.

Once the meeting was over, Laena and I retired to our chambers. The tension of the day clung to my shoulders like an unwanted cloak, but having Laena by my side made it more bearable. We shared a simple supper, the room filled with the comforting sounds of cutlery against plates and the soft murmur of our voices. Our glances spoke volumes, a silent understanding passing between us. The bond we shared was a powerful comfort, a silent promise that we would face whatever came next together.

Afterward, we retreated to the bath, the warm water a welcome relief from the day's burdens. The steam rose around us, cocooning us in a soothing mist. I could feel the tension melting away, the knots in my muscles loosening under the gentle caress of the water. Laena's presence was a balm to my weary soul, her touch a reminder of the love and strength we shared.

As we bathed, we spoke in hushed tones, sharing our thoughts and fears. Laena's voice was soft, her words a soothing melody that calmed the storm within me. She was my anchor, the one who kept me grounded even in the most turbulent of times.

Once we were clean and refreshed, Laena stood, her wet hair cascading down her back like a dark waterfall. She wrapped herself in a robe, her movements graceful and deliberate. "I'm going to check on the children," she said, her voice gentle. "And see how Aegon, Cassandra, and Orys are holding up."

I nodded, watching her as she left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and the room suddenly felt emptier without her presence.

The moment the doors closed behind Laena, a shadow moved from the corner of the chamber. Mysaria emerged gracefully, her presence a stark contrast to the opulence of the room. She moved with the silent grace of a predator, her eyes sharp and calculating. She sat in front of me, and I observed her as I took a sip from my Tyroshi pear brandy.

Mysaria looked as lovely as always, wearing a simple yet eye-catching white dress that accentuated her figure. However, it wasn't her body that interested me anymore. My loyalty and love belonged entirely to Laena. No, I was interested in the information Mysaria had gathered.

Without a word, I placed a pouch filled with golden dragons on the night table between us. Mysaria took the pouch, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. She began to share the intel she had gathered, her voice low and melodious.

"The Reach is in disarray," she said, her tone almost gleeful. "They are panicking as House Hightower's fall approaches. They had rallied behind the Hightowers, and now, with every Hightower either dead or captured in the Black Cells, they have no cohesiveness."

I nodded, my satisfaction growing. This was what I wanted to hear. Mysaria continued, her eyes glinting with amusement. "The Lannisters have retreated to Casterly Rock with their tails between their legs. They are quietly preparing their soldiers in case any evidence comes out that incriminates them, but they are not foolish enough to attack House Targaryen or continue supporting the Greens. As of now, the Greens are no more."

I felt a surge of pleasure at her words. The thought of the Lannisters squirming in fear brought a dark smile to my lips. Maybe some evidence would surface that would give me the excuse to burn something. Lannisters were always too prideful and stupid in my opinion.

"What about the small folk?" I asked, knowing that their reaction could sway the balance of power. Many of them were devout followers of the Seven and saw House Hightower as the strongest supporters of the Faith.

Mysaria's smirk widened. "The small folk do not care much about Prince Aegon. They see him as nothing more than a drunk and a whore. However, when word started spreading that young Orys looked just like Princess Lucerys did as a child, they began to grow fond of the Baratheon babe. They were outraged by the attack and have condemned House Hightower as kinslayers, even though the attack did not succeed. The people adore their Pearl of Driftmark."

I nodded, pleased by the news. The support of the small folk could be a powerful tool. With a silent wave of my hand, I dismissed Mysaria. She bowed shallowly, her movements graceful and silent as a shadow. She left the chambers without a sound, as if she had never been there.

As the door closed behind her, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, the Hightowers would pay for their treachery. I poured myself another glass of brandy, the rich aroma filling the room. The thought of seeing the Hightowers brought to justice, of watching their power crumble, filled me with grim satisfaction.

As I savored the brandy, deep in thought, a knock on the door pulled me from my reverie. The guard outside informed me that Crown Princess Rhaenyra was requesting entrance. I was surprised, as we hadn't spoken since the royal progression. I stood up and told the guard to let her in.

Rhaenyra entered, looking resplendent in a crimson red dress that clung to her form, with a black dragon intricately sewn from her skirt to her bodice. The low-cut bodice displayed her supple chest, a feature that remained striking even after she lost the weight she had gained from her three pregnancies. She wore a grand necklace adorned with rubies and diamonds, her fingers glinting with Onyx and Pearl rings. Her hair was styled in a high braided bun, crowned with the golden circlet she had worn at four and ten, when the lords of the realm swore fealty to her as Crown Princess. She was, in every sense, perfection. It was no wonder Westeros still called her the Realm's Delight.

Seeing her now, it was impossible not to be struck by her beauty, the embodiment of Targaryen strength and grace. Yet, as I admired her, a pang of guilt and self-reproach cut through me. How foolish I was to still lust after her. Rhaenyra had made it clear how much she despised me now, evidenced by her gifting Lucerys the jade crown I had once given her. I couldn't blame her. I had played a cruel trick on her when she was young, a trick that led her to marry a man who could never treat her like the queen she deserved to be.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories. I was no longer blind to Viserys' faults, nor to my own. I had been so consumed with earning my brother's approval that I neglected Rhaenyra, who had already suffered so much neglect in her youth. First by Viserys, obsessed with finding a male heir, and then by poor Aemma, who was overwhelmed by miscarriages, stillbirths, and her duties as Queen. And then there was me, showering Rhaenyra with gifts only to abandon her in the Red Keep every time I got myself exiled.

Rhaenyra had once begged me to fly her away, to marry her. But I had refused, and that refusal was a regret that would haunt me for the rest of my life. The sight of her now, regal and fierce, reminded me of all the ways I had failed her. I could see in her eyes the strength she had forged from years of disappointment and betrayal, and it made my heart ache.

Standing before me, she was a vision of power and resilience. The rubies and diamonds on her necklace sparkled, catching the dim light of the chamber, a stark contrast to the shadows of our past. Her presence was a reminder of everything I had lost, everything I had thrown away in my reckless pursuit of power and recognition. The memory of her as a young girl, full of hope and dreams, juxtaposed with the woman before me now, brought a lump to my throat.

I felt a mix of pride and sorrow as I looked at her. She had grown into a formidable woman, one who had faced more than her fair share of hardships and emerged stronger for it. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility for the pain she had endured. My actions, my failures, had shaped her journey as much as her own choices had.

I took another sip of my brandy, the coolness doing little to soothe the boiling regret that had settled in my chest. Rhaenyra's beauty and strength were undeniable, but so too was the chasm that had grown between us. I had no one to blame but myself for that.

As I stood there, the silence between us was thick. I let myself take in the sight of her, the woman she had become, and the reminder of the man I had failed to be. She moved with a grace that was almost painful to watch, I remembered the days when she would run to me with wide eyes and boundless trust, a girl who believed in dragons and the Targaryens who rode them. I remembered the promises I had made and broken, the dreams I had kindled and then snuffed out.

Rhaenyra's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the girl she used to be—the girl who had believed in me. But it was just a flicker, gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the steely resolve of the woman who had been forged in the fires of betrayal and ambition. I knew that whatever words passed between us tonight, they would be laced with the ghosts of our past

As she stood before me, radiant and unyielding, I felt a surge of emotions—love, regret, longing, and a deep, abiding sorrow for all that we had lost. I wanted to tell her so many things, to explain my actions, to beg for her forgiveness. But I knew that words would never be enough. The wounds we had inflicted on each other were too deep, the scars too old. Still, I had to try. For the sake of the girl, she once was, and for the sake of the man I still hoped to be.

When Rhaenyra asked about Laena, I told her that she was with the children. I watched as Rhaenyra nodded, mentioning that Laenor had gone to see them as well, and the siblings would meet there. Our conversation felt stilted, awkward, and painful, like we were strangers trying to navigate the remnants of a once-strong bond. After a long silence, Rhaenyra sighed deeply, allowing her walls to fall slightly.

"Do you remember when we used to sit by the fire in the Dragonpit?" she said suddenly, her eyes distant as if she could see those days laid out before her. "When we would talk about our dreams and laugh until our sides hurt?"

I nodded, feeling a pang of nostalgia. "I remember. You always wanted to fly to the ends of the world on Syrax."

"Yeah," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the floor. "I wanted to explore, to be free from all the politics and the wars. I wanted to be with you, Daemon, without all this bloodshed."

Her voice was almost a whisper, and it took me a moment to find my own words. "I'm sorry for everything, Rhaenyra. For leaving you alone, for not being there when you needed me the most."

Rhaenyra looked at me, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and resignation. "How did everything go so wrong, Daemon? We were so happy once, so innocent. Now my childhood best friend is trying to take my crown, my mother's dead, my father is a shell of the man he once was, and you and I—" She paused, her eyes searching mine for answers that neither of us could provide. "You and I are strangers."

The weight of her words settled over me, heavy and suffocating. I felt the sting of my own failures and regrets. "It's my fault too, Rhaenyra. I should have been there for you. I was so consumed with my own ambitions that I forgot about the people I cared about."

Her eyes were filled with a kind of weary sadness, as if she was trying to reconcile the past with the present. "I wanted to be angry with you, Daemon. I wanted to blame you for everything that went wrong in my life. But now… I've lost so much. I can't keep holding on to that anger."

I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the tiredness that came from years of fighting, from the constant battles with her own family and the kingdom. "What changed, Rhaenyra? When did you become so wise?"

She sighed, a bitter smile on her lips. "I became a mother, Daemon. When you hold a child in your arms, you see the world differently. You understand that there's more to life than power and revenge. I had to learn that lesson the hard way."

I felt a pang of regret, knowing how much she had suffered, and how much of it I had contributed to. "I'm glad you found some peace, Rhaenyra. I wish things could have been different for us."

"I miss you, Daemon. I miss what we could have been, but I also know that we can't go back." Her eyes met mine again, and there was a fleeting moment of understanding. "I'm tired, Daemon," she admitted quietly, her voice wavering with exhaustion. "Tired of fighting against my own blood, tired of the constant battles for power and legacy. Part of me still wants to be angry with you, but I can't keep holding onto that resentment. It would mean resenting everything that has brought me here, including my children."

Then, her demeanor shifted, becoming more serious. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking with mine.

"But Daemon, I know you," she said firmly. "I know you want your revenge, especially against Otto. I won't stop you from punishing him, but not until after the trial. House Targaryen's honor must remain untarnished until House Hightower is declared guilty."

I sighed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. "I understand, Rhaenyra," I replied quietly. "I've waited this long. A few more days won't make a difference."

Rhaenyra gave a small, weary smile. "Thank you for understanding. It's not easy to ask for patience from someone who's been waiting for vengeance for so long."

I gave her a reassuring look. "We've both been waiting for a long time, Rhaenyra. We can wait a little longer."

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the weight of her responsibilities and the burdens she carried. "Then I will leave you to your thoughts, Daemon. I hope you find what you're looking for."

As she turned to leave, I watched her go, feeling the heavy silence settle back into the room. I took a deep breath, trying to reconcile the past with the present, knowing that the future was still uncertain.