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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
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Game of Thrones (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. MartinA Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsHouse of the Dragon (TV)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime)
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Tanya von DegurechaffViserys I TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenSyrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's DragonAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenLaenor Velaryon
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Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,547Kudos:3,725Bookmarks:1,071Hits:221,293
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 40
Notes:
A special thank you to MARch_Of_Time for all the proofreading and suggestions!
Also - MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope everyone has a good time during the holidays.
Chapter Text
"Resources are finite." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 5
Rhaenyra may have proven more than equal to the birthing bed, but the months that led up to it were easily the worst of her existence. This would be her fifth child, and it had been the hardest. Her body was ungainly, prone to cramping, and her poor back might never be the same again!
I exaggerate but the experience has been wearing.
She was also irritated with two of her lovers. Both Daemon and Laena had sent ravens with their well wishes, but they would not be present for her birth. The distance was many times the length from Driftmark to Dragonstone, and their rulership of Tyrosh was still very new, yet still it rankled her. Was she not the priority here?
Harwin was there for her, of course, as were Elaena and Laenor. Her good-mother was in King's Landing, ensuring Otto didn't work mischief so close to the wedding. With Rhaenyra's father focused on the event, who knew what nonsense his Hand might push through under his distracted gaze? Rhaenyra wasn't overly fond of Rhaenys. She was a powerful and vital ally, but her disapproval of Rhaenyra's boldness with her infidelity was difficult to tolerate and weather at times.
Had my husband not proven his prowess so keenly, the stories of his cuckoldry would be even worse. It was not my intent to shame the Velaryons, but what was I supposed to do? Not bed the man I love? Bear no heirs with my husband being incapable, and thus shame us both?
"Tell me, sister, how is the Tooth? Is it as golden as they say?"
Elaena arched an eyebrow. "It isn't gold or even gilded. But to answer your question, it is a wonderful location. The climate is quite pleasant, the accommodations are suitable, and my own planned improvements are well on their way."
Rhaenyra sighed. How she missed Laena. She loved Elaena – she truly did – but the girl was so… pragmatic at all times. It was as if life were a puzzle to be solved rather than a joy to be experienced.
Harwin chuckled, noticing the look on Rhaenyra's face. He had heard her complaints about her sister more than once.
"So long as you are happy, your sister is glad of it," he said.
"Oh yes, I am quite content. Kevan is attentive and an able partner in our projects." Elaena replied.
The babe within her belly moved and a tolerable wave of discomfort passed.
It won't be long now, oh how I hope it is a little girl!
"How is Maegor settling in?" Rhaenyra asked her sister.
"He is well, the first week was difficult, but I am impressed with his learning aptitude. His mind reminds me of Aemond's."
Rhaenyra frowned. Was her sister saying Aemond was smarter than Jace and his siblings? Harwin placed a comforting hand on her stomach. Somewhat forward given the Maester and the attendants present, but it stilled her irritation. Elaena was not the kind to make slights like that purposefully, the boy probably just picked up Elaena's odd obsession with books and Cyvasse.
Well, he's a little young for that, but I'm sure it is something akin to it.
The birthing itself was as easy as the others. Elaena and Harwin stood on either side as she pushed another child into the world. It was a boy, but one look at him made any disappointment fade. He was perfect; another miniature Harwin to join Jace, Luke, and Aenar.
Maester Gerardys asked, "Have you a name for the boy?"
Laenor spoke up, "What are your thoughts on Corwyn?"
Rhaenyra knew that name, it was the name of Laenor's now long deceased grandfather. Before she could object, Harwin nodded his head firmly.
"A fine name, one I think the Sea Snake will appreciate." Harwin rumbled in agreement.
Rhaenyra was no fool. The two men must have talked about the eventuality of her giving birth to a boy.
Why the concern? I told Harwin I was thinking of a non-Valyrian name if it was a girl, were they worried about my choice?
She could object, but she had not been wedded to any particular male name, so it wasn't necessary.
"Very well, little Corwyn, welcome to the royal family."
The Maester checked him over for maladies or deformities and pronounced him as healthy as could be. The babe fed at her breast, and Rhaenyra sighed with contentment. It was a pity that no dragon eggs had been found on Dragonstone. She intended to ask her father to take the lone remaining unclaimed egg from the Dragonpit for Corwyn. Of all her children, only Aelyx was without a dragon, and that was due to Daemon's urging. He wanted Aelyx to claim an adult dragon rather than raise a hatchling.
The problem is that there are so few unclaimed dragons remaining. When Aemond took Vermithor and Daeron took Tessarion, it only left Silverwing. Daemon hopes to have Rhaena claim her. That would just leave the wild dragons.
It was a thorny problem, but there was hope that Dreamfyre, her own Syrax or maybe even Viktoriya would lay a clutch soon. The Dragonkeepers were uncertain of Meleys and Silverwing but Vhagar was certainly too old. Visenya's replacement egg had not yet hatched either. Should Helaena or Elaena become with child soon after their weddings, their children may not have the opportunity to become dragonriders.
The wedding was less than a month away, and she thought it likely she would recover in time to fly there. It would be good for the people to see her upon dragonback. Dealing with Alicent was sure to be a trial, but at least she would see Daemon and Laena there.
Elaena stifled a yawn before taking a turn at holding the baby after Corwyn had fed. She lowered her head as she cradled him for a minute before returning him.
"I find myself a bit weary, sister. Congratulations on the healthy boy."
Rhaenyra thought her sister was getting better at tolerating the birthing chamber. She did not look as strained as she had at other births. Perhaps through repetition her fears had lessened. Not that Rhaenyra had ever really spoken to her about the evident terror of the birthing bed, her own sorrow over her mother's death was not something she wished to re-open with conversation. Even if it was with her sister.
I can but pray you will fair as well in your battles with the birthing bed as I do. I fear you don't have my strength, but I will be there for you as you have always been there for me. And my own Maester will ensure you make it through when your time comes.
***
Aemond had no doubt about his own abilities, but he did have reservations about others. He had told his mother plainly that Daenora was not ready to claim a dragon. She had technically mastered High Valyrian, but her pronunciation was atrocious. Moreover, her personality did not seem to align well with what they knew of Silverwing. Daenora was flighty, rash, and prone to mood swings.
But that hadn't mattered. His grandfather had learned of Daemon's intent to have his daughter bond with Silverwing, leaving no further time to delay, as the wedding was just a week away. This was how he found himself in his sister's company, along with the Dragonkeepers.
Fortunately, Silverwing likes me. I'd still rather have had Elaena here, but she's still off in the Westerlands.
Aemond didn't think much of Kevan personally. The man was a cut above the average noble, but that was hardly lofty praise. Elaena deserved to wed a Paramount Lord, not a vassal. He missed her, and an honest self-reflection of his feelings revealed that this had likely contributed to his disdain for Kevan. Elaena's presence here would have been better, as she had a way with dragons that was unmatched.
Dragons were intelligent, far more so than other creatures. Why did Vermithor regard Elaena with a feeling of respectful wariness, unlike other humans? Aemond had asked Aegon what Sunfyre thought of Elaena, and his elder brother had expressed something similar. Was it their own respect for Elaena echoing through their bond? Aegon had even confided some about Elaena's actions during his attempt to claim Dreamfyre.
To think that even as a young girl, but a few commanding words from Elaena would quell a wroth dragon's flames and bow its head. An unbonded dragon, no less! To stare down Dreamfyre's flaming maw and demand she submit, and to be heeded at once? Elaena was truly a dragon above dragons, deserving of better than a Lefford.
All he knew for certain was that Elaena moved through the Dragonpit as effortlessly as she navigated the halls of the Red Keep, interacting with any dragon with the same polite confidence she showed to the palace's serving staff. Even Aemond tread carefully around dragons he was not bonded to.
"Remember, you need to stretch out and make your intent known – but don't be forceful. The dragon must choose you as much as you choose her," Aemond advised.
Daenora nodded solemnly. Her body was quivering though. Was she scared?
No… the little ball of annoying energy is excited!
His sister was nearly five years younger than he was. They had little in common, but he found spending time with her pleasant. He wasn't sure why – it simply was. She was lax with her lessons and quickly grew bored. She didn't even enjoy Cyvasse! Still, of all his full-blooded siblings, he cared most for her safety and well-being.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded solemnly as they approached the lair where Vermithor and Silverwing rested together. Aemond spoke to Vermithor, and the massive dragon stretched before moving away from Silverwing. Daenora skipped forward, her excitement barely contained.
"Careful!" Aemond hissed.
Silverwing cocked her head curiously, bringing her terrifyingly large maw close to Daenora for a sniff. A low, draconic keen emitted from the dragon's throat, and Daenora reached out to touch the silvery scales.
"Oh, oh, she's so beautiful up close!" Daenora said with wonder in her voice.
Aemond let out a breath, seeing Silverwing accept her hand about her scales. The Dragonkeepers murmured amongst themselves and then one spoke up.
"Prince Aemond, your sister has done it. They are bonded! Targaryen and dragon, once again."
"Can I go flying, brother?" Daenora asked excitedly.
"Yes, but you will need to follow my instructions."
"My prince, we had not received word that she would be flying," one of the Dragonkeepers replied.
"They are bonded. She is a Targaryen, and therefore a dragonrider. It is in our blood. Elaena flew her dragon around the same age."
The Dragonkeepers exchanged uncertain glances before one finally spoke. "As you say, but please, be careful. There are many ways to injure yourself on dragonback, especially when one is young and less hardy. The winds…"
"Do you forget with whom you speak? I ride the Bronze Fury and have laid waste to foes of Westeros. I do not need your warnings on how to instruct my sister. Now fetch a saddle and chains."
It isn't that their counsel was inaccurate, it simply was unneeded.
Aemond carefully ensured the saddle was set properly. He showed Daenora how to do the same.
"The Dragonkeepers know their craft, but always double-check it yourself. The chains should remain fastened while in flight. Silverwing knows how to fly and will likely ignore commands that could lead to a crash, but don't take chances. Avoid flying too low until you are ready to land."
Daenora was nodding rapidly. "Yes, brother, I understand. You've told me all this before. I'm ready, let's go, now!"
Daenora had been on dragonback before, but only upon Viktoriya and Vermithor and in tandem with someone else's rider. Aemond gave her a look, and then nodded. He backed away from the large silver dragon. Of the bonded dragons, she was the third largest living dragon. Only his own Vermithor and Lady Laena's Vhagar were larger. Of the wild dragons, Aemond understood the Cannibal to be larger than Silverwing, though sightings of Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost were rare and reported only by uneducated smallfolk, so it was possible that they too were of a size with Daenora's dragon.
Aemond watched as his sister soared into the clouds, her cries of joy bringing a smile to his features. Riding a dragon was the most Targaryen thing one could do. It was right to take pleasure in such a thrill.
We truly are more Gods than men. It is our destiny to rule over our lessers. My uncle has made a fine start, and one day I will do even more in bringing all of Essos to heel.
***
Aegon had dined with his family, including the newly arrived Elaena and Kevan. The Red Keep, and the city as a whole, were bursting at the seams, and he found the attention and focus on him overwhelming. He was grateful Elaena had requested a more intimate dinner. There would be three days of tournaments, followed by the weddings. Afterward, three additional days of celebration would feature contests of song, mummery, and similar entertainments. In total, it was a seven-day event, though many nobles had arrived far earlier, several of whom wished to meet with him and test his mettle.
Aegon was keenly aware that his mother and grandfather wanted him to be King after his father's passing. Otto Hightower, his grandfather and the Hand of the King, was a formidable force. When Aegon spoke with him, his arguments seemed sound. Many nobles would not respect a ruling Queen. Even during Aegon the Conqueror's supposed joint rule, it was evident that all deference was given to the King. The eldest-born male was the rightful heir, and his father's position would unravel once he was gone. From that point, it would be critical to rally support and prevent bloodshed.
His mother had a grudge against Rhaenyra, but Aegon had none. In truth, he would rather wish to get along with her. She was his half-sister and Elaena cherished her. And yet, could he doom the realm to strife and discontent simply because of the soft-heartedness of one man? It was a thorny problem, all the more vexing in the fact that he could not speak openly about it to anyone, save for his mother, grandfather, and Aemond. He was tempted to ask Elaena for advice, but in his heart, he already knew her stance.
The King rules, he has made his decision, and we should abide by it. The law is not always best, but defying it must only be done in the most grievous of situations, lest we invite anarchy.
That was what Elaena would say. The thought of working at cross purposes with his elder sister – the one who had taught him so much about life – left him deeply unsettled. More than one sleepless night had followed, as he tossed and turned, consumed by worry over how everything might go awry.
He had even shared his concerns with his grandfather who said Eleana would not be a problem. Aegon had pushed him as to why and the man had hesitated.
"Your sister craves order, she may well speak out against defying Viserys and his post-death wishes, but once she sees the nobles of the realm swear allegiance to you, she will fall in line as will most of the rest." he'd said.
Most of the rest did not include Daemon Targaryen, who would be eager to draw blood. It wasn't the Rogue Prince that Aegon feared. Even though the man was one of the realm's greatest warriors and rode the fearsome Caraxes, one of the larger battle dragons, Aegon's concern lay elsewhere. No, it was the Dark Storm that troubled him. His mother had warned all her children to avoid the man during the wedding celebrations, cautioning that he was always but a moment away from savagery.
It is most like a mother's fear. Ser Laenor has always composed and restrained himself well at court. It is only when faced with assassins or at war does he let slip his inner rage.
In a way, Aegon both recognized in him a kindred spirit, and was even more concerned by the man's self-control. His mother was wrong; if she was to fear the Dark Storm, it should not be just for his potential at unexpected slaughter, but more for his masterful containment of his wrath. For Aegon too felt the dark urge to rip apart things… and people. He had worked hard to master said rage, but it was trying at times. He made no comparison to Laenor's effectiveness and slaughter, only the desire to let slip control and to truly allow his passions to take him.
How would a man like Rhaenyra's husband react to her being usurped? Would he immediately fly to King's Landing, bringing death and destruction in his wake? Or would he bide his time, striking when they least expected it? These questions filled Aegon with dread, gnawing at his thoughts.
In brighter news, his sister, Daenora, had successfully claimed Silverwing.
Sunfyre, Vermithor, Dreamfyre, Tessarion, and now Silverwing. The power of five dragons at my call when I push forward my claim. Will it be enough?
He hoped the Blacks would see reason, but he truly did not know. Perhaps the wedding would give him a chance to see them more in person and see what kind of people they were. His mother spoke of their vileness and actions of ill repute, but Aegon did not see his mother as one who was wise. Her lessons on life were a pale shadow compared to others.
Speaking of… Elaena had asked to speak with him and Helaena privately after dinner and so he found himself in her chambers with his betrothed.
"Thank you for meeting with me, I am sure you are both busy with the upcoming wedding."
"Not really," Helaena answered.
Aegon shrugged, he was busy, but he would always have time for Elaena.
"You will soon be wed, and Helaena has not yet reached her fourteenth name day. As you both may know, my own mother became with child several times at a very young age. Most ended in miscarriages and those events weakened her, which eventually led to her death bringing me into this world." She looked both of them in the eyes as she paused, something steely in her gaze. "I would not see history repeat."
Aegon slowly nodded, understanding Elaena's well-founded fear. He had been told to get Helaena with child as soon as possible, and it had been confirmed that she had flowered, but he would not wish to risk her health.
"It will be expected that we consummate the marriage." Aegon said, voice heavy with question.
Elaena nodded. "Yes, but we don't follow so barbaric a tradition as to request the sheets be checked. Not to mention, the hymen can break in a variety of ways prior to the first act of-"
Aegon was flushing furiously. "We understand."
Elaena nodded, "Simply say that you have consummated the marriage, but do not actually do so until Helaena is older."
Helaena made a humming sound. "I suppose I can wait, but I want brother to know that I do wish children from him in time, and have no fears of him laying with me when ready. I like this Aegon."
Aegon looked at Helaena quizzically.
This Aegon?
Just Helaena being odd. "How long should we wait?" Aegon asked.
"The earliest would be six-and-ten, by that point your bones will have developed enough in the pelvic region. You are still growing at that age, and childbirth is tricky and draining. It would be better to wait long, but that may have social implications, such as rumors of you being barren, which could make things difficult."
Aegon took Helaena's hand in his and squeezed. "I am willing to wait if it ensures Helaena is healthy enough to carry our children without issue."
"Without issue? There's always risk, but I… we will do what we can to minimize it." Elaena looked uncomfortable, the first time Aegon could recall ever seeing her that way. "And if you desire to… ahem, achieve satisfaction before consummating the traditional way, there are alternatives. I can acquire for you some well-researched and illustrated texts about activities that can..."
"That's quite all right…" Aegon began.
"That would be lovely!" Helaena said at the same time.
Elaena looked at Helaena and then back at Aegon and sighed. "Just… don't do anything yet. There's time in the future."
Aegon was thankful this conversation was coming to an end, much like his will to live nearly had several times in the last few minutes. His grandfather would be upset to know about this agreement, but he didn't intend to share it with him. Having a child as proof that the succession could continue through his line was important, but his father was still relatively healthy.
Risking Helaena is not worth it.
***
Alicent struggled to keep a glare from settling on her face as Rhaenyra embraced the King. Being in the presence of the woman who posed such a threat to her children was a trial. Her hatred for Rhaenyra burned with a clarity that was almost comforting, while her fear of Laenor, though less immediate, added its own weight to the effort of maintaining a composed expression as Viserys greeted them both.
"My beloved daughter, congratulations on another child. In a few months, when he's a little older, you simply must bring him for a visit to King's Landing. Corwyn, is it?" The King's gaze shifted to Laenor. "I imagine your father was well pleased with that choice."
"He was, Your Grace." Laenor bowed his head respectfully.
Alicent stepped in and forced a smile on her face.
Why do the Kingsguard allow him so close, and armed!
Rhaenyra inclined her head by the barest fraction and murmured, "Your Grace, I have yet to see Baelon and am most eager to do so."
Laenor gave a more proper bow to a Queen. "Your Grace."
Viserys waved his hand dismissively. "Bah, enough of these formalities. We are family. Between us, there are no Kings, Queens, heirs, or consorts—except on the most formal of courtly occasions." The King clapped Laenor on the back. "It has been some months, yet I've not heard your account of the battle of Tyrosh. Come, let us leave our fair ladies to finalize their wedding preparations."
Laenor walked away with the King with a relaxed visage.
Only a beast such as he would not grimace when recounting butchery.
Alicent eyed Rhaenyra carefully. "If you wish to see Baelon, we can go to the Royal Apartments now. Afterwards, I am sure my daughters, Helaena and Daenora, will want to see their half-sister." She placed her hands over her heart. "Ah, I love my boys – my regal Aegon and my fierce Aemond – but there is something uniquely wonderful about having a daughter."
Rhaenyra stiffened, and Alicent knew the Master of Whisperers' report about Rhaenyra's longing for a daughter had been accurate. She wasn't certain how her father had managed to suborn the younger Strong brother, but whatever the cost, it had been worth it.
"Yes, well, I will be pleased to spend time with my siblings," Rhaenyra said, her voice only lightly strained.
Alicent heard Harwin and Ser Criston fall in behind them, keeping a respectful distance. Harwin's footsteps were as silent as Cole's, despite his larger size.
They walked in silence for a few more moments and then Rhaenyra glanced at her.
"Will lands be found for Aegon? The son of a King having no fief of his own must be aggravating. Perhaps your family could secure him an orchard and a small keep to manage in the Reach?"
Alicent glared at Rhaenyra. "He is quite at home in King's Landing. Given his abilities, I imagine he will be appointed to a high post by his father – perhaps even on the small council."
She had spoken the words, even though no such discussions had taken place with her husband. Rhaenyra did not need to know that.
"A boy of five-and-ten on the small council? The way you try to exploit my father's good nature is revolting. Have you no shame?" Rhaenyra spat the words out in a harsh whisper.
Their eyes locked and Alicent mirrored the hate-filled gaze.
"You speak of shame? How many of your boys are spitting images of him?" Alicent's head gestured toward Harwin, who was still trailing along and speaking with Criston softly.
"Not all children take after a parent. Your own children only have a passing resemblance to the Hightowers," Rhaenyra countered. "But if you wish to make an accusation, give voice to it in court. Speak it in public, speak and let all know what you truly are. A scheming, grasping wretch who seeks to rise above her station. You are the daughter of a second son, and only your untoward seduction of my father has given you the leverage you so eagerly abuse."
Alicent felt rage bubble up inside her. It had never been her idea to entice Viserys, to be forced to bear so many children, to never know peace… her thoughts trailed off. She would never admit that to the bitch beside her. Rhaenyra would never know that satisfaction.
"The utter gall of you accusing me of being too forward when you have probably fucked half the guards on Dragonstone. Do you even know the tales they tell? How you and Laenor parcel out which men meet your fancy and…"
"More slander! You go too far!" Rhaenyra countered and actually raised her hand as if to strike her.
Suddenly both of their knights were between them. Ser Criston gave her a look, while Harwin, who was facing Rhaenyra, spoke up.
"We've passed two servants, a pair of guards, and three maidservants since you began your conversation. Perhaps it would be best to have this in the privacy of one of the rooms?"
Rhaenyra cast a share glare past the knights at Alicent. "The conversation is ended; I find myself wearied from the journey and will retire. I will see you at the wedding."
Alicent watched the two leave and thought it good that she wouldn't have to suffer Rhaenyra's presence or let the harlot around her children.
"Your Grace, you must be careful. Their star is ascendant, and I fear the King will not take your side if arguments are brought before him."
Alicent breathed out. Criston was frustratingly correct. Baelon's birth had been over a year ago. The Blacks had ensured Viserys did not face a protracted war with Dorne and had brought one of the jewels of Essos into the crown. Rhaenyra had given him a new grandchild. The odds were against her.
He is my husband! I gave him seven children; he should side with me and his firstborn son!
And yet she knew that was not the reality before her.
"You are right, Ser Criston, I forget myself. She brings out the worst in me."
"Aye, she has that effect on many." He leaned in closer and whispered. "Her rule would be a calamitous disaster, but patience is needed. You must be a counterpoint to her licentious foulness."
Alicent nodded. She would keep her temper. Her father had plans, and in their fullness, they would unseat Rhaenyra and keep her family safe. She would need to ensure Helaena didn't embarrass herself at the wedding. Her daughter was well-behaved, but some of the absurdities that came out of her mouth… as a young child, it was fine. But the people needed to see her as their future Queen!
***
"That fucking cunt!" Daemon cursed, seething with rage as Rhaenyra relayed the news of Alicent's spawn claiming Silverwing.
Rhaena looked disappointed, and around the room, those gathered bore expressions of varying discomfort. Daemon noticed Baela comforting her twin, who kept a brave face to hold back tears.
Laena took her daughter into a hug. "There will be other opportunities, the Dragon Pit still has an unclaimed egg, yes?"
Rhaenyra looked uncomfortable. "I had intended to secure that egg for Corwyn, but I have not yet had a chance to discuss it with father."
Daemon considered his options. He could pressure Rhaenyra into giving up the egg for his daughter – surely, the dragons would lay more soon. Alternatively, he could encourage Rhaena to attempt to claim one of the wild dragons. It was far riskier, but as one of them had a taste for sheep, it would be easy to lure.
Laena eyed Rhaenyra and was about to entreat her when Daemon made his decision.
"Dragon eggs hatch best when placed with the babe in the cradle." He crouched beside his daughter. "You are brave and bold; you have no need for a dragon egg when there are still dragons on Dragonstone for you to claim."
"Elaena," Laenor began, "can help with that, Rhaena. This way, you will be able to fly far sooner than if you waited for an egg to hatch."
Daemon snorted. "Elaena? There is no need. I will assist my daughter."
Laenor looked at him placidly. "Caraxes has a violent temperament, him assisting in corralling a wild dragon may lead to you killing your daughter's would-be mount."
He hated conceding a point, but Laenor had one. At the same time, he wouldn't put it past the treacherous snake to deliberately sabotage the bonding and put Rhaena at risk.
"Perhaps you are right," Daemon conceded after a long moment. "We can discuss it anon. Speaking of the bride-to-be did she not see fit to deign dine with her beloved sister?"
Rhaenyra shot him a look. "She is having lunch with Alicent, an obligation she had already agreed to before we invited her. Most likely, the bitch is attempting to monopolize her time, but 'tis not Elaena's fault."
Lucerys let out a laugh at his mother calling the Queen such a term.
"Don't let me catch you repeat that sort of language, Luke." Harwin rumbled a warning to his son.
And his son he most obviously is.
Daemon knew with certainty that they carried Targaryen blood; his niece had birthed them, after all. It did annoy him that they did not look Targaryen. When Jace ascended the throne one day, he would bear the visage of a Riverlands noble and look almost nothing like a scion of the House of the Dragon. It was galling to him that the Targaryen bloodline had been subsumed by a lesser line.
Ser Joffrey laughed. "Come now, Harwin, let the boy live a little." He winked at Luke. "On second thought, I feel as if calling Alicent a bitch is an insult to every dog who ever bore pups! A bitch is a fine and loyal creature, quite the opposite of our Queen."
Laenor sighed. "Joffrey, don't encourage him. We are in King's Landing, not on Dragonstone." Laenor looked at Luke with just the hint of sternness in his gaze. "Do not insult the Queen while we are here."
"In any case," Rhaenyra said bringing the topic back to her sister, "we will see Elaena at the feast hall for supper. I have arranged for her and Kevan to sit next to us."
Daemon drank deep from his cup. "I heard you aren't entering the lists, Laenor. Why? This could be a chance to pay back Ser Criston."
The vaunted 'Dark Storm' simply shrugged. "Tourneys no longer hold my interest, and I would not disgrace the royal weddings with an attempt to cause bloodshed, no matter how deserving."
"Cole has breathed too long." Daemon began, but Rhaenyra cut him off.
"Daemon, can we not discuss this in front of the children?"
He made a dismissive gesture. "Fine, what about you Harwin?"
"Not the joust for me, but I will be part of the melee. It has been too long. I have no wish for skills to dull with unuse. You lot at least had some fun taking Tyrosh."
"Hardly a challenge," Daemon replied. "But good, I will enjoy seeing you break the bones of some of the Green's champions."
"Breakbones!" Aenar crowed, which caused Aelyx and the girls to laugh.
When lunch was concluded Daemon, asked Rhaenyra to join him and Laena in their rooms. Harwin guarded the door and Daemon was able to taste Rhaenyra again. His wife was almost eager as he to lay with his niece, and they enjoyed a pleasurable hour. Spent, the three lay in the bed together.
"It has been too long," Laena murmured. "The city is a wonder, and Tyrosh is a seat fit for Daemon, but I regret the distance."
"Hopefully you can visit more often now that things have settled down," Rhaenyra replied.
Daemon stirred. "They haven't truly 'settled down.' The city is filled with ears from the other cities of Essos. At least one assassin was already caught attempting to enter our abode. I almost did not come. If it were not for my good-mother volunteering to keep an eye on the city with Meleys, I would have remained and just sent Laena on."
"Mother was glad for the time away from the 'viper's nest,' as she has taken to calling King's Landing. The King is easily persuaded at times, and she's muttered about how adept the Hand is at framing the situation to meet his desires. She is glad for the reprieve but feels the need to return soon after the wedding festivities are completed."
Rhaenyra sighed. "I'm sure your city will be fine. Tyrosh was taken in a day because of dragons, and Essos has no dragons. But I have no wish to argue with my two loves. We'll have enough harsh discourse in the coming days!"
Laena kissed her. "Wise words from our one-day wise Queen!"
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Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,547Kudos:3,725Bookmarks:1,071Hits:221,293
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 41
Notes:
A big THANK YOU to MARch_Of_Time for all the proofreading and enhancements!
Chapter Text
"This sounds like an example of organizational failure being temporarily covered for by the competency of on-the-ground administration. -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 13
Dinner the night before with his family had been… tense. It had grown wearisome to watch his wife and daughter take turns glaring at each other or sending veiled barbs. Viserys had decided that he would break his fast with a smaller and less frictional group. To that end, he had invited Aegon and Helaena, both of whom had comported themselves respectfully, along with Elaena, Kevan, Laenor, as well the newly arrived lords Corlys Velaryon and Humfrey Lefford.
"Who do you think will win the melee today?" Viserys asked the group.
"Ser Criston, most like," Aegon replied to his father. "He seems to defy the years with ease and only grows more skilled. I fear I will never possess even a fraction of his ability."
Viserys knew that Ser Criston had played a pivotal role in instructing his sons in the art of arms. Aemond, despite being much younger, was already surpassing Aegon. This was not to say that Aegon was incompetent, but he was unlikely to ever emerge as a tourney champion.
"Ser Harwin is in the mix, as is Lord Boros," Corlys added, "I do not think Cole will have as easy a time as he normally does."
Elaena nodded. "Lord Corlys is correct; the competition will be fierce. I have seen Ser Jon Roxton, and he is indeed formidable. I understand that he and Ser Medrick will be among the attendees."
A few other knights were named, and Viserys leaned back, savoring the discussion as his breakfast companions contested with each other on the most likely to win. What a marvelous event to witness – disagreement without rancor!
During a lull, Viserys said, "It is a pity your wife is in Tyrosh, though it was gracious of her to allow Daemon and Laena the opportunity to attend court. I greatly look forward to her return."
Corlys nodded graciously. "Rhaenys would do anything for her children." He gestured toward Laenor. "And Laena was dearly looking forward to the wedding. When one has a wife as fierce as Princess Rhaenys, one avoids arguing!" His tone made it half a jest.
Laenor looked to Kevan. "Advice you should consider well, Kevan. Don't argue with your future wife, ever."
That tone was not in jest. It had a serious depth to it that took Viserys back a bit.
Helaena giggled, "Ser Kevan, you better behave with my sister or the Dark Storm will get you!"
"Don't scare the poor lad," Viserys admonished Laenor. "That is my duty!" Viserys stared hard at the young man until his expression could no longer be held straight. His belly laugh was soon joined by the others in the room, to varying degrees.
Kevan took it in good grace and then leaned forward to ask, "Are things still dire in Tyrosh? I am surprised."
Corlys swallowed a bite of peppered fish before answering, "Not exactly. Daemon is paranoid, and perhaps with cause. Essos has seemed oddly… peaceful and ingratiating of late. He fears it's a ruse and that they're plotting a surprise attack on his city."
Humfrey looked at the Sea Snake curiously. "But surely any attempt would fail? The walls are intact and a goodly portion of your fleet is still in the area."
"I believe so, but Essos has large fleets of their own, and Daemon has no trust for our Dornish allies." Corlys replied.
"Aye, my brother does not trust Prince Qoren. The Prince arrived yesterday and will be feasting in our hall tonight after the melee." Viserys thought for a moment. "That reminds me, we'll have another great knight within the melee. Ser Artyr, the Sword of the Morning, will be present to display his prowess." He paused, searching for what he had been about to say. "Ah, what was I saying? Oh yes, Prince Qoren will be here and I hope some more face-to-face time with my brother Daemon will build trust. Qoren will be seated next to Daemon and your daughter, so please put in a word with Laena to try to keep things peaceful."
"It shall be done, Your Grace." Corlys inclined his head while replying formally.
"Elaena, you must be eager for the second day of events, mayhaps ready to crown more Knights of Victory?" Viserys asked his daughter.
"I am, Father. The knightless jousts and melees are quickly becoming a favorite among the smallfolk. There have been some unexpected sapphires found in the dirt; many of the Knights of Victory have proven themselves worthy of their knighthood and have secured gainful employment."
Kevan nodded, agreeing with his betrothed. "Several are at Golden Tooth, and I have been impressed with their valor and competence."
"I can also vouch for these knights," Corlys added. "My grandnephew, Daemion, has been impressed with their service."
"Oh right, he was one of the first suitors for Elaena's hand. I understand Lyman invested a tidy sum in a small fleet expedition to the far reaches of Essos? Is he expected to return soon?" Viserys asked.
Corlys stroked his chin, a hint of nostalgia quirking his lips. "He's retraced much of my own journeys. He made it to Leng, and as of three weeks ago, according to the raven, he should soon be docking in Qarth for the return journey. Assuming the weather holds and he is not accosted by pirates, it will have been an incredibly successful expedition."
Aegon asked, "They use ravens in Essos too? Without Maesters?"
Corlys nodded. "Yes, though it is not as common. They use pigeons at times as well. There is no grand secret to training a bird to send a message, it is just a matter of convenience that we let the Maesters handle it all."
"The birds he returns with will sing, but they won't carry messages," Helaena said in an airy voice. The table glanced at her questioningly, but Aegon quickly steered the conversation back on course.
"Pigeons? I would not have thought them intelligent enough, but that is fascinating. If you have some time, Lord Corlys, I would love to hear more of your journeys to Essos."
Viserys saw Corlys consider his words carefully, a slight furrowing of the older man's brow telling the King that Aegon's invitation had caught the lord by surprise.
"I should have some time while I am here, my prince, and would be honored to do so."
Viserys was beaming. This is what the realm needed!
"My boy, there are also quite a few dignitaries from Essos who have newly arrived. I am sure they will be happy to speak with you, and most speak our tongue fluently," Viserys suggested.
"It was strange to see ships docked from Qarth and Volantis in King's Landing." Corlys admitted. "Were they expected?"
Viserys nodded. "They were. I was taken aback as well. When I wed Alicent, only Pentos, Braavos, and Myr sent representation. Now Myr is absent, but among the cities you mentioned, we also have Lys, Lorath, and even guests from Norvos. Two royal weddings in unison must have been too great an event to ignore!"
General agreement around the table met his comment and Viserys took another sip of the well-watered wine he was drinking. He was proud of his reign, and this grandiose occasion would most like mark the height of magnificence during his rule, well-attended beyond all else before or still yet to come.
"Myr has people in the city as well on business with the Dragon Bank." Elaena remarked.
"Oh?" Viserys asked, intrigued.
"Yes, there was a project to create glassworks in the North that sought financing from the Dragon Bank. I believe the plan is sound, and as a gesture of goodwill, I offered to have Myrish consultants invest in a stake of the burgeoning enterprise."
Viserys frowned. He now knew his daughter wasn't completely innocent or naïve to the ways of the world, but she was still young and far too trusting.
"That may have been a mistake," he said softly, keeping his voice light. "I know Lyman has been busy arranging the various financial aspects of this wedding, but you will want to review those specific plans with him. It's likely the Myrish do not intend to be good partners in any such enterprise."
Laenor coughed, and Corlys gave him a few sturdy pats to the back. Viserys was idly amused that such a puissant warrior could still choke on a glazed sausage.
Kevan was vainly trying to hold back a smile. Viserys wondered why. Surely, he wasn't pleased that his betrothed was being reprimanded, albeit in the slightest and lightest way possible. Elaena always wore a confident mien, and one of Viserys's fears regarding suitors was the difficulty some men had in marrying intelligent and powerful women.
I like you Kevan, but while I jested earlier, you had best treat my daughter well!
"The meeting was very productive, but we have yet to get to the signing stage. I will review it with Lord Beesbury later today before final arrangements are made."
Good, Lyman will set things to right. Most like, Elaena would have checked in with him before any final agreement; I worry over nothing. Those two have worked hand in glove for several years now. And it is right and proper that my darling daughter still has her innocence.
***
It felt odd to Medrick to once more be in the south. The death of Rickon Stark could not have come at a worse time. With the Wall howling that something dangerous was stirring in the North, the last thing needed was a new overlord. Already, there were some concerns about his rulership, and the young Cregan Stark, still not of age, had spoken out against his uncle. It was a fine mess, and it felt wrong to set sail once more for King's Landing.
However, the North needed representation. Lord Bennard Stark had chosen not to attend the royal wedding, and so his vassals had to go in his stead. Medrick was here with his father, Lord Desmond Manderly.
Elaena's ideas had taken root in the North, and already tests, or 'experiments,' were being done with differing farming methods and seeds. They were minor in nature, and assurances were made that food would be shipped to make up for any failures, but if they succeeded... it would do much to increase the North's food stocks prior to winters.
Thoughts of that were put to the side as his squire finished fastening the last pieces of his armor. The grand melee would be fought on foot. That had become more frequently the style of late in King's Landing. Medrick also intended to compete in the joust, assuming he suffered no great injury.
Nearly two hundred knights would take the field. Tourney weapons were provided, so bludgeoning weaponry was favored. If a knight yielded, they were honor-bound to retreat from the field with their hands upraised. There were no rules regarding working in tandem, but there could be only one winner.
The crowd was lively and in a jovial mood. Free food and entertainment, and a celebration for the ages – for the smallfolk, this would likely be one of their most cherished memories. Medrick recognized a goodly portion of the heraldry from these southern houses, but did not know much of their details. As the King instructed the tournament to begin, Medrick focused on a knight bearing the heraldry of a broken wheel.
Waynwood.
Medrick came in confidently with an overhand strike that the other knight tried to parry aside, but the momentum of the blow was more powerful than his foe had anticipated. The blade clipped the pauldron, and Medrick seized the momentum in the fight. Bashing strike after bashing strike had the Waynwood knight on the back foot. He feinted to the head, only to curve downward and land a blow to the side. The jarring strike knocked the other knight off balance, and Medrick was about to ask if he yielded when another knight crashed into him.
Medrick kept to his feet and shoved him aside and then chaos reigned. The crowd evidently enjoyed it as their cheers grew louder and louder as Medrick fought with precision as well as he could. When he had the opportunity, he backed toward the side of the arena so that he could at least avoid being blindsided.
He heard Lord Borros Baratheon's roar and the howl of his warhammer, glancing over to see the man smash aside the purple unicorn of House Brax. The heavy wooden shield had shattered, and no doubt the bones in the arm that had held it had as well, such was the fury and raw might in every strike from the Lord of Storm's End.
Medrick also saw Ser Criston wield his morning star to great effect. It smashed into helms and wrapped around the hafts of weapons. His armor was no longer pristine white, but his white cloak caught the sunlight.
Over half of the competitors had been laid low, and Medrick found himself crossing blades with Ser Rickard Thorne, also of the Kingsguard. The two went at it, and Medrick found them to be of near equal skill. This was a duel worthy of the name, and Medrick found himself thrilled with the contest. By the grace of the Seven, no one interfered, and when they both disengaged to draw breath, they saw the numbers had dwindled even further.
Medrick caught a glimpse of Ser Harwin bodily lifting another knight and slamming him to the ground. Only for Ser Criston to nearly brain him with the morning star. Harwin had managed to get an arm up and took the blow on his gauntlet. It sent him to the ground, but Criston could not follow up as another knight came upon him in a dazzling display of swordsmanship. Criston had to yield ground from the onslaught, and then Medrick's own foe charged back into him and he lost sight of the battle.
The fight came down to who had more endurance. As Ser Rickard's movements slowed, Medrick was able to seek an advantage and soon had the man on his back, yielding. Medrick looked around warily and saw only a handful left. Harwin approached him with a blunted tourney blade, and Medrick was forced back by his absurdly powerful blows.
He would have gone down if two other surviving knights had not charged into Ser Harwin, bringing him to the ground instead. Medrick's sense of honor prickled and he slammed down his tourney blade onto one of the men squirming to hold Harwin down. The blow struck him in the helm and the knight collapsed as if a puppet whose strings were cut. Harwin wrestled in the churned earth and Medrick saw a knife fall from their struggle.
Had they been trying to knife him in the pit, eye, or neck? What even-?
Medrick again did not have time for thought as Borros called out a challenge and advanced on him. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the onslaught. The hammer was everywhere and Medrick couldn't even properly block it without suffering a similar fate as the Brax knight had. Being as winded as he was, he failed to move in time and the hammer struck him hard across his sword arm. Shooting pain went up his side and his blade dropped from his hand.
"I yield!"
Borros nodded and shouted a war cry, looking around for who was left. It was just Harwin, and Medrick got a front-row seat as the two titans clashed. Harwin was larger and stronger, but Borros moved with a fluidity that was impressive. Borros was probably the third-largest man on the field, so the difference between Breakbones and Lord Baratheon was not that great. Ser Harwin gave it a go, but he too was felled by the Baratheon hammer.
Storm's End had triumphed, and the smallfolk screamed their approval. Medrick was well pleased with his performance. He had bested a Kingsguard and had only been defeated by the eventual victor of the entire melee. Medrick moved his arm; he would have a nasty bruise, but he should still be able to compete in the joust.
***
Listening to Lord Borros boast during the feast had grown tiresome to Rhaenyra. It was made worse by the fact that his final victory had been over her Harwin. She had screamed like one of the smallfolk when it had come down to just the two of them. She was mildly embarrassed about that, but it had been so exhilarating, and she had been sure he would prevail!
At least Ser Criston was also vanquished. Pity that he didn't suffer a major wound. It would be justice after what he did to Ser Joffrey. When I am Queen, that matter will be rectified.
Daemon, who had watched the fight with her, had been contemptuous of Baratheon. He had said that his wild swings and savage attacks had left him exposed, but with the rules of the melee only allowing blunted weapons, his opponents couldn't exploit the myriad openings he had.
"In a real fight, Dark Sister would have crippled him in the first minute." Daemon had said confidently.
Laenor had shrugged, saying, "He employed the rules of this contest in his favor when selecting his weapon and fighting style. A warrior like Borros would act differently against edged weapons."
Her thoughts returned to the matter at hand today. Her father had been most eager for this event prior to the joust. Syrax crooned as Rhaenyra stroked her scales and then stepped up into the saddle to mount. Today, the people of King's Landing would behold something that most like would never be seen again in their lifetime.
Syrax rose into the sky and joined the other dragons. She saw Laenor on Seasmoke, Laena on mighty Vhagar, and Daemon on Caraxes. Below her, she saw her son, Jace, on Vermax. Her other children's dragons were yet too small to fly. She hadn't noticed at first, but soaring even higher than the rest was Elaena on Viktoriya.
Why is she flying so high?
Then came the Greens. Aemond on Vermithor, whose sheer size was startling. Not quite as large as Vhagar, but easily the second-largest dragon in the skies. Then came Aegon, and Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat; the way the sun glistened and reflected from Sunfyre's scales was resplendently beautiful. Behind him came Dreamfyre. Not nearly so radiant, but the dragon possessed an elegant and serene beauty.
Tessarion came next, a swift and agile dragon. Blue and copper were her coloring, and Daeron rode his mount with effortless grace. Finally came Silverwing, who flew next to Vermithor. They soared in the air, awaiting the bevy of trumpets that would signal them to fly over the city and awe all of King's Landing.
Rhaenyra saw Caraxes glide closer to the Greens. Vermithor winged around and interposed himself between Silverwing and Caraxes. For a terrifying moment, Rhaenyra thought Daemon was about to do something mad, but Caraxes veered off. Vhagar let out a cry, and Rhaenyra saw Laena shout; what she said was impossible to hear over the roar and the wind, but beyond continuing to circle the skies, naught happened.
The signal was finally heard and they proceeded down in order of size.
I should have been first, but like always, father wished to avoid conflict. By defaulting to the length of each dragon, he forestalled arguments. I will not be so meek when I am Queen.
Laena dove down first, and Vhagar let out a triumphant roar. She idly wondered if dragons had pride the way their riders did. Was Vhagar pleased to be going first? Either way, Vermithor descended soon after with his own resounding roar.
After the Bronze Fury came Silverwing. The dragon moved slower than either of the two larger preceding ones, and Rhaenyra thought it must be due to how fresh Daenora's bond as a rider yet remained. The loss of Silverwing was concerning, Daemon had raged that the balance was growing too close for comfort.
His repeated insistence that the Greens have six dragonriders is infuriating.
But he was right in terms of Silverwing being a grievous blow. Despite being younger than Dreamfyre, she was larger, which most like meant that, eventually, she very well may reach Vhagar's size – though that would be many decades away.
Behind Silverwing came Dreamfyre, and then almost instantly Daemon and Caraxes, flying less than a wingspan behind Dreamfyre. Rhaenyra frowned. She normally wouldn't be opposed to her lover intimidating her enemies, but Helaena was but a young girl, and this was her wedding celebration. There was no need for such base behavior.
Tessarion gave a roar and almost moved out of order, but Sunfyre gave an answering reply, flying crossways and cutting the younger dragon off. Shouts she barely heard were exchanged, and Tessarion winged away. Irked by the whole affair, Rhaenyra spoke to Syrax in High Valyrian, and her dragon descended in a stately manner behind Caraxes.
She looked behind, and Sunfyre followed at an appropriate distance. She knew the order from there. After Sunfyre would come Elaena on Viktoriya. Her sister had been blessed with a fast-growing dragon; Viktoriya was already larger than Laenor's older dragon, Seasmoke, who would thus follow her. Following Seasmoke would be Tessarion, and then, finally, her own son's Vermax.
Eleven dragons flew over the skies of King's Landing. Only Meleys was absent, due to the need for at least one battle-ready dragon to remain in Tyrosh. The dragons winged over the tourney area and then flew past the Red Keep. They circled the city and flew over all the gates. A few of the dragons flew concerningly low in Rhaenyra's estimation, but the people seemed to revel in it. Cheers and clamor were awash throughout the entire capital, the earth and sky seeming to tremble with the uproar of celebration from so many at once. For a few moments, Rhaenyra imagined them cheering for her alone, their next Queen.
She knew her father would be grinning broadly at this display. She hoped that all the visitors from Essos that had arrived for the royal wedding were also watching. This was the power of the House of the Dragon. With it they could reduce any city to ash, something that would hopefully make those Essosi powers wary of attempting to contest them in Tyrosh and the Stepstones!
***
Daeron had missed the opening preliminary jousts, as had the other dragonriders, the distance from the Dragonpit making attendance impractical. Not that there was much to see; the field had been swiftly winnowed down to the great knights of the realm. Yet his uncle's actions still irked him. Dragons were perilous creatures, and stalking Dreamfyre so closely could most like only have ended in calamity.
His sister Helaena hadn't seem bothered though.
"It was like a race!" she had said.
The Septons say that Daemon may well have sired dozens of baseborn children. He frequents dens of ill repute and deflowers maidens, many of whom never had another option before being sullied.
Sadly, even his Hightower kin were not free of that particular sin. Gunthor frequented such establishments as well, laughing off any reproach and declaring that, in time, Daeron would better understand such desires. Yet, for all Gunthor's indiscretions, they paled in comparison to Daemon's. To shame oneself in relative privacy was one thing; to serve as a poor example to others and disgrace one's lady wife with public debauchery was quite another.
Tyrosh is a good place for him, let us hope he visits Westeros rarely!
Daeron sat in the stands near his mother, his gaze wandering over the arrangement of seats. To his father's right were Rhaenyra, Laenor, and their children, alongside Daemon, Laena, and their twin daughters. To his mother's left sat his full siblings. Elaena and Kevan had chosen seats a row below the King and Queen. He had hoped to sit next to Elaena, but that spot was already claimed by a blond-haired lady he did not recognize, and of course Ser Kevan was on her other side.
He settled in to observe the jousts. He watched a member of House Arryn unseat a Frey and then a member of the Kingsguard vanquish a hedge knight. The bouts were quite lopsided. He said as much and Aemond glanced at him.
"Of course they are. You didn't think the lots were truly random, did you? The tournament organizers ensure the best knights avoid facing each other until the round of sixteen. Even then, they claim it's random, but I have my doubts. It will be Ser Criston against our uncle Daemon."
Daeron had not known that. "Either could be unhorsed before then."
Aemond shrugged. "Unlikely. Perhaps if the Dark Storm had chosen to compete... but he hasn't entered a joust in years. The twin Kingsguard brothers are skilled jousters, yet neither is likely to triumph over those two."
"I will say a prayer for Ser Criston to prove triumphant, then," Daeron replied, briefly lowering his head. He barely caught the sneer on Aemond's face and was about to ask the cause of it when an upset occurred on the field.
One of the hedge knights had unseated Gwayne Hightower! His uncle was a bit battered from the fall, but raised his hand which indicated that he was not seriously injured.
"Poor showing." Aemond commented.
Helaena gave him a look. "Be nice, brother. Uncle Gwayne is always kind to us."
"You should ask him for a wedding present then."
"Oh?" Helaena asked, seemingly curious at the unexpected response.
"Yes, ask him not to joust anymore and embarrass the family."
Their mother glared at Aemond. "My brother is a valiant warrior; everyone has a poor showing every now and then."
Aemond snorted in derision, but did not argue further.
Losing a joust does not shame a family. No, what shames a family is passing bastards off as trueborn sons. How the Velaryons bear it, I'll never know.
Daeron glanced at Jace, Luke, and Aenar. Their features made it plain – they were Strongs, the resemblance to Ser Harwin, Rhaenyra's sworn shield, was undeniable. Yet curiously, Aelyx bore the unmistakable traits of a proper Targaryen. The Septons in Oldtown claimed that Rhaenyra had taken lovers beyond Strong, fueling rumors about Aelyx's parentage. Some whispered it was Daemon, others a Targaryen bastard, and a few even speculated it was the Sea Snake himself.
It is possible even Rhaenyra does not know.
The thought of a bastard one day claiming the Iron Throne made Daeron sick. Lord Ormund Hightower had assured him that godly men would never allow such a vile thing to come to pass, though he insisted Daeron was far too young to concern himself with such matters. Yet it always rankled when he was excluded from knowledge. He might be six years from formal adulthood, but he was a dragonrider and had already surpassed some Citadel apprentices twice his age. The Maesters continued to urge him toward their vows, but he did not think that was the path the Smith had in mind for him.
The next match saw Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard take down Ser Amos Bracken. The jousts continued, and Aemond's prediction proved true. Ser Criston laid low a knight from House Manderly to win the semi-final round.
That is a noble house, stuck in the North with the savage heathens and their Old Gods, the Manderlys still proudly pay homage to the Seven. Perhaps one day they will convince their neighbors of the true path.
His sister, Daenora, cheered loudly for Ser Criston. Daeron vaguely recalled seeing Ser Criston often in the Royal Apartments. His main charge was the Queen, Daeron's mother.
"Do you think he will win?" He asked his brothers.
Aegon immediately answered yes, but Aemond gave an unusually diffident shrug.
"Daemon is blood of Old Valyria. I suspect that he leans on his natural gifts and does not train so rigorously as Cole. Either can win," Aemond answered.
They settled in to watch and the jousters shattered four lances upon each other's shield. Daeron noted the skill in horsemanship. These two knights were the pinnacle of martial prowess.
And yet, what purpose does martial glory in this life serve when you are damned for your sins to the Seven Hells? Come on, ser, show the court that virtue and honor mean as much as skill!
Daeron was pleased to see his prayers answered as Cole's fifth lance struck inwardly and Daemon failed to adjust his shield properly. His uncle careened off his steed and lay still for a moment. The smallfolk cheered, and Daeron heard the twins cry out in unison, joined by Rhaenyra and Laena. Squires rushed to the field, but Daemon stirred, removed his helm, and spat blood onto the ground.
"COLE! Dismount and fight me. Give the people here a worthy spectacle." Daemon shouted his challenge.
Ser Criston looked to Daeron's mother, who nodded her head. Ser Criston dismounted and a squire ran up with a morning star while Daemon's bore to him Dark Sister.
In front of Daeron at the lower seat, Elaena rose. "Ser Criston has won, had you wished to face him afoot, you should have joined in the melee, uncle." Elaena's soft voice somehow seemed to carry through the noise of the crowd.
"It is no matter, princess," Cole replied, "I would be happy to face the Lord of the Stepstones."
"It matters to me, ser, you two mislike each other, and I will not have those who love me weeping over you or him at my wedding," Elaena replied.
Ser Criston looked back over to the Queen, while Daemon began striding forward toward him. Daeron's father finally stood up.
"This is my daughter's wedding, Daemon, stand down."
Daemon obeyed, but even Daeron could see the look of loathing on his face. His gaze wasn't directed at Daeron, but just based on the angle, Daeron could clearly see it and feel the weight of the hate behind it. He shivered.
Do not look at my sister that way!
Tension rose among his siblings, but Daemon turned away in anger and left the arena. Ser Criston, as was his wont, declared the Queen of Love and Beauty to be none other than Queen Alicent herself. His mother accepted the flower crown with good grace, but she looked troubled.
Daeron leaned over to Aemond, "Why isn't she happy?"
Aemond eyed him and then answered in a lowered voice. "Ser Criston accidentally slaying Daemon in a duel would rob the Blacks of the power of Caraxes. Pay attention, little brother, because this was our mother acting upon her own volition and signaling Cole to not just accept the duel, but to kill. Turning a joust into a bloodsport at a wedding celebration? Neither Elaena nor Helaena would approve. Even our grandfather was displeased by it, and he despises Daemon.
Daeron swallowed thickly. That was not how a knight should behave! Slaying a vicious degenerate like Daemon Targaryen was an act of goodness, but only if it was done with open intention. Attempting to turn a wedding celebration duel into an act of murder was base and loathsome.
I will light seven candles at the sept this evening and give thanks for not having all my 'formative years,' as Elaena calls them, occur here in King's Landing. For while I miss her daily presence, this place twists the heart and imperils the soul!
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