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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:1,548Kudos:3,726Bookmarks:1,072Hits:221,375
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 46
Notes:
As always praise the editor! MARch_Of_Time always delivers awesome suggestions!
Chapter Text
Chapter 46
"If you're too dimwitted to remember orders, how about I split open your skull and pound them in for you!?" -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 1
Daemon kissed his wife and then sat down to break their fast. Laena had been an unexpected delight, originally a mere consolation prize when he could not take what was his due. There had been no hunt, no slow toying and endearing himself to her. He had not drawn her in, as he had his first prize. Many thought he was impatient and hasty, and that was oft true, but he had been patient with Rhaenyra.
A gift here, a raised eyebrow there, the lingering touch of his hand upon her had all served to bring the girl closer to him. He had only to wait until she was ripe… and Viserys had put an end to it. He would never kill his brother. His weak, soft-hearted, and frail sibling was the King, was the closest blood relation he had. But Daemon always knew the man and his vices would succumb to themselves while Daemon still drew breath. His plan was to take the Iron Throne through marriage and rule as only a strong Targaryen could.
When his path became blocked, he had settled for Laena and the power she held through Vhagar. There had been no prolonged hunt; the carefree girl had leapt into his arms and joined him without hesitation. She had delighted in how he had killed her previous suitor, a man she held in contempt. In truth, she had chosen him as much as he had chosen her.
To his surprise, Laena cared not if Daemon fucked others, and even wished to be drawn in to his eventual affairs with Rhaenyra. As the years passed, and Rhaenyra became less fit from her many births, Laena instead remained supple with her original youthful figure that had made her a worthy replacement.
Perhaps my brother did me a service. I will still rule in every way that matters, but without a crown. And yet, I will wear the crown as the ruler of Essos – Master of the Triarchy, Hand, and true power behind Queen Rhaenyra, the first of her name. Ruling just Westeros seems such a small thing, now.
Such a dream required but a few more things – the deaths of the Greens, for one. But most importantly, Rhaenyra had to do as she was told. In this, Laena had once again shown her loyalty. When no word had come from Rhaenyra, he had pushed Laena to put additional pressure on her. His wife had attempted to demur, but after some cajoling, she had become enamored with adding additional creative touches. A 'tear-stained letter' asking Rhaenyra what wrong Laena had done to her, and then the desperate plea to take in their children when she and Daemon were slain by their enemies… Daemon had thought it too dramatic, but it had worked. The raven sent to Rhaenyra had been the final push his insolent niece needed to come crawling back to them in Tyrosh.
Laena's eyes held an amused glint. "You seem pleased this morn."
"It was a pleasing evening, and today dawns with possibility. We will soon add Lys and then Myr to my domain," Daemon said proudly.
"The Master of Essos, and I am wed to him." Laena was smiling broadly, but then her face turned thoughtful. "Mayhaps, we pressed a bit too far last night; Rhaenyra had been pulled betwixt divided loyalties."
Daemon scoffed. "You enjoyed her apology well enough."
Laena's face colored prettily, but she laughed. "She was so earnest and biddable—how could I not? And when… no, we have too much to do today, and the more I talk of it, the more distracted I will become. We have Baratheon gathering supplies and men. House Drumm and Wynch will have sailed past the Arbor by now. 'Tis almost time, my love."
He did have much to do. Gathering, planning, and leading men in these petty tasks was exhausting. He enjoyed war planning in terms of tactics, but it was an utter bore to worry about such things as supplies and how many men could fit on a ship. Normally, others would do it, but a level of secrecy was needed. When they conquered, it needed to be resolved in one fell swoop before his brother could interfere.
They were done with their meal by the time Rhaenyra joined them. But no sooner had she arrived than a hue and cry was raised from outside. Alarmed, Daemon took up his blade, and his guards opened the door. A messenger shouted, "D-D-dragon! Dragons!"
"How many?" Daemon demanded even as he was rushing toward the door.
"F-five, my lord."
"Wake Rhaena, and get her mounted on Thraezarys."
"She's too young," Laena protested.
"Do as I say, no, wait. Get on Vhagar." Daemon snapped at her and then turned to the guard. "Wake my daughter and tell her get to her dragon immediately."
Rhaenyra looked shocked. "What is happening?"
"What do you think? Five dragons, that means Vermithor, Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, Silverwing, and Tessarion."
"But Daeron has been forbidden his dragon, and why would they come here now?" Rhaenyra asked, tension and worry in her voice clear as she followed him.
"And? Do you think Otto fucking Hightower cares about my brother's wishes? The Greens see their chance to strike down my family with their numbers while they think we are separated from Meleys, Seasmoke, Syrax, and Vermax. But with you and Syrax here, that makes it four against five, and we can still triumph with those odds."
Caraxes and Vhagar both let out a roar as they flew down to the courtyard that Daemon had deliberately cleared before their seat of power. Some of the nearby homes had to be laid to waste, but it had been worth it.
"Fetch a horse and take Rhaenyra to Syrax, go!"
One of the knights held up a Myrish eye. "My lord, we spot five dragons; one can only be Vermithor, the Bronze Fury. The other two, by size, must be Dreamfyre and Silverwing. The final two are gold and silver, the first assuredly Sunfyre, but the silver…"
Silver?
Rhaenyra, who had just mounted the horse, yelled, "Daemon! Stop, that can only be Laenor or Elaena, and neither would come here to make war."
"You think Elaena would not?" Daemon snarled. "She has long hated me and has ever worked to further Otto's schemes."
"My love," Laena said, "I cannot believe Elaena would fly to war with child. I would not trust her with our son if I feared she would do us harm like this. Perhaps something else is afoot."
Daemon scowled up at the sky and then grabbed the far-eye from the knight. He looked through it and saw that Vermithor had two riders.
"Others take him! Rhaenys must have told Viserys. I told you your mother couldn't be trusted!"
"If she had, she would be with Viserys," Laena countered. "My mother has never shied away from confrontation."
Daemon conceded that was true. Rhaenys was an ally but also a thorn in his side. She was a true Valyrian and as bold as brass. The blood of his people had clearly shown through in her spirit, if not her hair.
Then who has betrayed me?
The dragons slowly circled down in a lazy spiral, making clear their intention was not violence. Daemon stood stiff-backed, his form as rigid as stone, as the expansive courtyard became crowded with dragons. Viserys looked angry, his hair quite the mess thanks to the whipping wind.
An angry old man, come to lecture me and protect his fragile peace. Be thankful for my love, brother; if it were anyone else trying to stop me from taking what is mine, I would have already removed their head.
***
Viserys was wroth. A wroth of mind and heart alike smoldering embers beneath his skin, fueling a simmering tension that would not abate, ever readying him to act. Neither the long flight over nor its harsh winds had done aught to diminish the burning ire towards his brother. He knew that Rhaenyra was most like to be here after his discussion with Elaena, but still he had hoped it was not the case.
Today I have drunk from a bitter cup.
"Well, brother, will you compound foolishness and treachery with rudeness as well? Invite me into your home."
Daemon recoiled and then summoned servants. Bread and salt were given and Rhaenyra went to her father's side.
"Father, why have you come here?"
"To prevent war and to remind you who is King," he replied with a sharp tone.
"Father, there is more to this situation than you know. Daemon is only trying to keep his family safe."
Daemon thundered, "Be quiet. I will speak to my brother."
"Mind your tongue, brother. That is, at least for now, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms you raise your voice to."
Rhaenyra's face crumpled. "What are you saying?"
Viserys wanted to embrace her; he despised the vulnerable look on her fair features. Instead he stayed silent and moved deeper into his brother's home. The idea of her siding with his brother and inciting an all-out war with Essos twisted his insides. His rule was now synonymous with peace, prosperity, and advancement. Across the breadth of the land, yields during harvest were up, travel had been made easier, and banditry was becoming a rarity. Just the other day he heard a knight complaining about how it was too difficult to make a name for himself when there were no foes to slay!
An excellent problem to have.
The dining hall of his brother's manse was cleared. Aemond wished to stay, but Aegon pulled him away. Helaena tried to do the same with Elaena, but a bland look and a polite refusal sent the younger sister scurrying after her husband.
"Welcome to my home, brother. It appears the snakes from Hightower have been whispering in your ear again. Come, tell me what amusing lies they have foisted upon you."
"Will you deny it? You are planning for war in Essos. You have conspired with lords, great and small, to launch an invasion. I flew in and saw your harbor full of ships."
Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra and Laena before turning back to Viserys. "Deny that I am prepared to defend myself against Essosi aggression? No, never that. I have laid down an ultimatum – strike at me again, attempt to assassinate me in my own home, and I will conquer them. This is all a grand threat, but should they not see reason, I will teach them." Daemon smirked. "Is that not how our conquest of Tyrosh came about? They sought to slay your good-son. As your brother, am I not also entitled to your vengeance?"
Viserys scowled. "I've heard of the assassination attempt; it gladdens me that it was so easily thwarted. Unless you have proof you have not shown us, how can you be so certain it was Lys or Myr? You rule Tyrosh and have not made many friends. Everywhere you go, Daemon, you make enemies. It would not surprise me if a bitter lord of the Vale paid a small sum for a knife in your back. The man who tried to kill you was an opportunity, no great threat. He could not have been paid much."
Daemon's eyes widened, before his expression changed.
"You think there was only one? You think my own guard and my own people have not disrupted multiple plots? Your Master of Whisperers may do well enough in Westeros, but Essos is outside of his ken."
Viserys was about to respond, but Laena bowed her head. "Your Grace," her distraught voice carried in the near-empty room, "'tis my fault. I have lived in fear over my children for so long that I pushed my husband to send a message. How can I live within the shadow of death? They send a man with a knife once, but perhaps next time it is a servant who delivers poison in a cup rather than on a blade. After what happened to my brother… that fear haunts my very dreams."
Viserys saw Rhaenyra put a comforting hand on Laena's back, to which Elaena's gaze narrowed. What was his daughter thinking? She was the one who brought the issue to his attention, and like so often, she was right. Daemon had been preparing for war and had conspired with other lords.
"Lady Laena, given what happened to your brother, I can well understand your fear. This course of action he has begun places you at more risk, not less," Viserys gently said, his earlier fire temporarily set aside to soothe Laena. He had to consider what it must be like for her, in a strange land, dealing with his brother, and how, of course, she would be terrified after her own brother was nearly slain by an Essosi assassination plot. "If Daemon attempts to conquer more of Essos, there will be far more attempts than if he does not."
Daemon laughed, short and sharp. "Brother, people know fear. Show them our strength and they will not dare to. Remember the last King of the North? Torrhen Stark? A warrior king who kept the savage North under his iron rule. A great wolf of a man – savage, strong, and fierce. But after the Field of Fire, he knelt like a pup to his master. I aim to teach these curs the same lesson Aegon the Conqueror taught Westeros."
Viserys gave him a baleful look. His brother had always had the gift of using words to mold circumstances to his liking. But he had not come to mince words with him. Had he prepared these arguments and brought them to the small council, petitioning him properly, it would have been one thing. But no, he had gone behind his back.
"Even if what you say is true, it does not excuse your attempts to thwart my desired aims and to keep me in the dark. This scurrying about like vermin in the undergrowth is beneath you, brother. There will be no more talk of war in Essos. Should you attempt to strike Lys, Myr, or any other city-state, you will answer to me. I will strip you of Tyrosh and the Stepstones."
Daemon stood up. "Those are mine, brother. I have subdued and built this place for two years. Has not your treasury grown fat from the tax my city pays? Do you think I will let you…"
Daemon managed to master himself and sat back down. "When will you act? When I am dead? Laena? Rhaena? Baela? Visenya?"
"It is my hope that none need die," Elaena spoke serenely. "To that end, perhaps a dedicated set of knights should be employed to protect you and your family. The King has the Kingsguard, but why should the Paramount Lord of the Stepstones, and other Paramount Lords, not have their own dedicated protective order? It need not be for life, nor involve oaths against holding lands like the Kingsguard, but a professional order sworn to your family's security seems most fitting."
Viserys saw that his daughter's comments caught the others off guard.
"What nonsense are you speaking of, I have guards." Daemon replied.
"Guards, yes, but you seem to find them wholly inadequate, necessitating a costly and dangerous war due to your limited faith in their utility. Daeron Velaryon petitioned the King to expand the Kingsguard after the attack on Laenor, but was declined due to the veneration of the number seven. Perhaps, Lady Laena, you might call upon your cousin to help craft this parallel order for the defense of your house."
Laena gave Elaena a grateful nod. "Thank you for the suggestion, Elaena."
"We aren't done speaking on matters of import regarding the other cities; I wish to root out the source of the danger, not merely guard against it," Daemon said hotly.
Elaena nodded, "That decision is the King's, your brother, and the man you swore fealty to, uncle. Since he has made that decision, I aim to address the concerns your lady wife has raised. Perhaps I should take Laena and Rhaenyra while we leave you two alone to come to an understanding?"
Viserys was puzzled. Elaena had requested to be present when he confronted his brother, yet now she wished to depart? Daemon, though, appeared even more vexed.
Will I ever understand my family?
Laena and Daemon looked at each other, and then at a nod, Laena got up. Viserys however did not wish Rhaenyra to leave.
"Rhaenyra, stay. I have been remiss in preparing you for the throne. Why were you assisting Daemon in this, instead of coming to me?"
Rhaenyra looked down, but when she looked up, there was a fire in her eyes. "Because he's right. Fire and blood. It was my husband whom Essosi assassins nearly struck down. My uncle and good-sister are in peril, and I would gladly act and spill an ocean of Essosi blood to keep them safe. They are dear to me, and the world should know that if you strike at one of Targaryen blood, you strike at us all."
Viserys sighed. "War is a terrible thing, Rhaenyra. I've met with trusted advisors on the issue, and their consensus and my own view are aligned. War with Essos enhances the risk you describe."
"Ah yes, Otto and his daughter – as ever, I am right in who has been murmuring in your ear."
Viserys growled. "Otto was agreement, but he was far from the only one, nor was he the one to bring your madness to my attention."
"Who then?" Daemon demanded.
Viserys chuckled. "Who else? My perceptive daughter continues her work with Lord Beesbury within the Dragon Bank. Do you think Baratheon taking out loans and sellswords gathering would go unnoticed? Do you think vessels altering their trade routes to join your armada did not raise questions? As a loyal daughter, she informed me of what was likely afoot."
Daemon glared at Rhaenyra, then turned back to Viserys. "Elaena regards Alicent as her mother and came to know venom for me at an early age. She seeks to undermine me out of spite, not out of any loyalty to you."
Viserys looked at his brother with incredulity, his jaw opening in surprise. "You are mistaken, brother. Despite your oafish behavior toward your niece, her advice regarding you has only aided you."
Daemon snorted in disbelief.
"Believe what you will." He turned to Rhaenyra again, "As for you, what would you do if you were Queen and lords conspired to act against your stated wishes?"
"I…" she looked lost, and glanced briefly at Daemon before returning her gaze to her father, "I would, ah, examine the unique circumstances of the situation and tailor a plan that best resolved the issue and strengthened the Seven Kingdoms."
Viserys blinked.
It seems more than one daughter of my beloved has inherited the silver tongue.
"An apt avoidance, Rhaenyra. That is not the answer I seek. How would you handle rebellious lords?"
Rhaenyra frowned and nervously rubbed at her wrists. They looked chafed; had his daughter picked up a nervous habit? That would need be broken if she were to become Queen. One could not have a visible tic of that nature, for it would be perceived as weakness.
"Some form of penalty would need to be applied." Her voice began softly, then she gained more confidence as she continued. "Perhaps a fine to be levied, or an increase in taxation for a set period. Alternatively one could mandate a royal overseer to be added to that lord's court and report to the King directly."
Not bad ideas, but she shies away from any stiff penalty.
"Daemon, I know what you would do. You would simply lop off their heads and call it justice. Tell me, brother, do you prefer your own mode of governance or do you prefer Rhaenyra's?"
Daemon's eyes were wrathful, but even he knew he had crossed a line that should not have been breached.
"Your daughter is wise, and I yield to that wisdom," Daemon answered.
Viserys nodded. "Then here is my judgement. The houses that participated in this will face financial penalty for the next five years. The Houses of the Iron Islands, as well as the Targaryen branch of the Stepstones and Tyrosh, House Baratheon, and the Targaryen branch on Dragonstone. Moreover, an agent of the small council and several knights will be dispatched to Tyrosh to ensure no further treasons take place. Additionally, Rhaenyra, I find your lack of loyalty disheartening. You have clearly surrounded yourself with poor counsellors."
Viserys saw Rhaenyra swallow thickly as she waited for him to continue.
"As such, you are to stay for an extended visit in the Vale of Arryn. Jeyne Arryn can help prepare you for your ascension; she has faced unique struggles due to being a reigning Lady Paramount, and it is time you become truly prepared. Your sworn shield will remain on Dragonstone to guard your children, where they will remain, save for Corwyn who due to age will remain with you. Your husband may visit you, but no others."
This was a matter he had spoken of with Elaena. Rhaenyra was being swayed by Daemon, and while it was unfortunate, Daemon had always possessed a more striking and martial presence than he did. It was natural for Rhaenyra to seek guidance from elder kin… though Daemon offered none of the wisdom she sought. To separate them, whilst also preparing her, would serve two purposes at once.
"No, you can't do this. You can't take me away from everyone! Jace, Luke, Aenar, Aelyx, Daemon, Laena, Harwin, my family, I didn't do anything! No ships from Dragonstone set sail, no, father, you cannot do this."
Rhaenyra was visibly distraught, but Viserys sat unmoving.
"I can, and I will Rhaenyra. Or, you can forfeit your right to the throne. Cease being my heir and send Jace to me and I will prepare him to be the next King of Westeros."
Daemon interjected forcibly, "Brother, see reason. This would throw the succession into turmoil. For over a decade your lords had expectations of who would rule after you."
I don't want to strip Rhaenyra of her rights, but if she would be willing to give up her throne for temporary exile to the Vale, to avoid a stay with her mother's kin and valuable insights for her own future rule, then she is not fit for it.
Rhaenyra blinked rapidly and struggled to compose herself. "For how long?"
"A year, perhaps two. I will consult with Lady Arryn as to how well you heed her lessons."
Daemon slammed his fist on the table. "Oh yes, what a Queen Rhaenyra will be when she has to simper for one of her future vassals."
"'Tis no different than having a royal heir foster somewhere. She is past the age of it, but Lady Jeyne has been one of Rhaenyra's staunchest supporters ever since I announced her as heir over you, Daemon."
"That's because she despises me!"
"I already know she has wisdom, no need to further prove it," Viserys bit back.
"Fine, father! You wish to penalize me for doing what I thought was best for those I love, I will accept that. You are the King, and we must obey." Rhaenyra looked drained of life, but her jaw was set and her determined expression was clear.
Excellent, you did pass the test my daughter.
"I will grant you a week to make your arrangements and set your house in order. I do this out of love, Rhaenyra. For when you ascend to the throne, I shall no longer be here to guide and protect you. You must gather wisdom before that day comes."
***
The King's arrival in Tyrosh had been a complete surprise to Laena.
'Tis still better than open battle, like we first thought when the dragons were sighted.
Laena idly wondered how that fight would have gone in truth. She put her trust in Vhagar and Caraxes, but her daughter and Rhaenyra… she did not feel it would have gone well for them. It inspired a new sort of unease that she was loath to dwell on. She glanced at Elaena cautiously as they entered one of the sitting rooms.
The long-haired princess was only barely beginning to show, but the sight of her brought a warmth to Laena's heart. Her good-sister had grown splendidly into a lady of immense beauty and grace, her condition bringing about her a glow of health and tenderness. A tenderness that Laena's heart cried out fiercely to protect upon first impression. Daemon had long harbored an undeserved hatred for the girl, now young lady and expecting mother, and it would take careful steps to ensure he did not do something unfortunate.
A pity that he hates her. It would be quite interesting to see if she were anything like her sister. Ah, I suspect not. Much too pious. And diligent, besides. While I am grateful for her hours of prayer and comfort by my side when I suffered births both harsh and eased, it does not bode well for her interest in 'comfort' of a more pleasurable nature. Her support for me and my children is enough, gods know her diligence and study spared me from the folly of Maesters!
"I'm dreadfully sorry to have played a part in bringing you all this way, Elaena. You aren't too far along yet, but soon I'd recommend you avoid strenuous travel."
"It was not strenuous, flight for Viktoriya and I rarely is, but I thank you for your concern nonetheless. Laena, my sister is married to your brother, I am raising your child, and we both wish to see the Houses of Targaryen and Velaryon prosper. I would prefer not to be at odds."
Laena smiled at her. "Oh, Elaena, we aren't at odds. I'm sure my beloved husband will be wroth indeed, but I will calm him down, you shall see."
Elaena stared at her, and Laena grew discomfited. Those eyes seemed even more glacial blue than usual.
"Then do not attempt to manipulate my father."
Laena tried to put on a giggle, but those eyes stole any mirth that she might feign. Suddenly uncomfortable in the room she was in, she twisted her neck around to ease the tension she felt.
"A mother has fears," she managed to get out, "'tis all. My… my…"
Why can't I stop looking at her eyes? Why do they feel like they are boring into my skull? I need to further plant the lie from earlier.
"My husband listens to me. Yes, he listens to me, and that is what caused him to go around his brother's back. A mother's fears, he took too seriously. I was just explaining to–"
"Don't." The coldness made an odd counterpoint to the stifling heat that was making her sweat. Tyrosh was warmer than Driftmark, but she thought she had gotten used to it.
A sigh escaped her. "What matters the reason? I do not wish my good-brother, the King, to be at odds with my husband!"
"Perhaps, then, you should discourage your husband's adventurism. My father sees clearly the damage that war with Essos would cause. Do not allow Daemon to do this again," Elaena said with a sense of complete finality in her tone.
Laena could scarcely breathe; she didn't know what was coming over her, but when she nodded, Elaena smiled.
"I'm glad we had this discussion, Laena. I believe both your mother and brother share my opinion on the matter of further unnecessary conflict." Elaena looked hesitant for a moment. "My, it does grow warm in these side rooms. Perhaps a cool drink will be a balm for the heat."
Laena gave a nervous laugh and agreed.
What in the Seven Hells was that? It reminded me of when I first attempted to bond with Vhagar. The dragon fear nearly unmade me; it felt almost the same. She's a pregnant princess with no power save that of her father's, yet why did I become a stumbling mess when she tried to push her views on me?
They eventually discussed plans for creating a set of guardians, specifically trained to provide 'holistic protection' against all types of threats – poison, knives in the dark, arrows in the back, conventional assaults on the manse, and more. Elaena's imagination was quite vivid, and the businesslike approach to the conversation helped lessen Laena's growing unease. For indeed, much of Laena's concerns about assassination plots were genuine, and she had mostly just channeled her feelings on the matter into supporting Daemon's cause. But the alternatives that Elaena offered, well, she found her original worries assuaged to a surprising degree.
She's a delicate flower with unexpected steel in her spine. Add to that the fear of my daughter fighting on dragonback and the worry that Daemon won't control his temper with the King, and it left me unsettled. Yes, that must be it.
Within the hour, the King and his children were gone. Laena recalled Aemond catching her eye and smirking. It seemed he would remember her jests at Storm's End and hold a grudge. She wasn't worried – though the boy's dragon was fearsome, Vhagar was the larger of the two. And a boy so easily tweaked would be similarly easy to lead into traps or mistakes. Just as he had at Storm's End.
When Laena learned of Rhaenyra's exile to the Eyrie, she embraced her tightly.
"It isn't fair, but you must endure it. If for only a little while. A year will pass in a blink." Laena soothed.
Daemon, however, raged. "That copper-counting whore has ruined everything! You," he pointed a finger at Rhaenyra, "have always insisted that she hasn't allied herself with Alicent's cause. And yet today, she flies with the Greens to see me punished and you exiled."
Rhaenyra meekly shook her head. "Elaena isn't siding with Alicent, Daemon. She just finds ledgers and coin counting fascinating. Recall how she initiated the audit of taxes and levies. Remember how her actions made the Lannisters and Hightowers squirm."
Daemon grimaced. "Aye, that was in the past. Now Lannister fawns over House Lefford, showering them with gifts. She has been bought by them. Why are you too blind to see what's right before your eyes?"
Rhaenyra stayed silent for a moment. When she began to speak again, Laena put an arm around her shoulders.
"Let us not quarrel in the little time remaining to us. Daemon is upset that we are going to lose you for a year or more. It will be hard on us all, but we will get through it and be stronger for it. I will help look after your children, as I know my brother will defend them with all his might. You have nothing to fear for their safety."
Daemon seamed as if he would argue, but Laena gave him a look and a small shake of her head. He had begun to trust her read of people in social situations, and with a huff, he simmered down.
I swear to the Seven, it is like herding cats. I do worry about Rhaenyra. Her fire has ebbed considerably; the timing of this visit was poor. We... were not kind the prior night, and now this morning has sheered away much of the foundation of her confidence. I will speak to Daemon later; we must rebuild her sense of self before she departs – at least a little.
Laena knew she had difficult tasks ahead of her. She would need to find Daemon some sort of distraction so he did not dwell on his anger toward his brother or Elaena. They had discussed opening fighting pits like those in Slaver's Bay. They could use criminals – those facing death or gelding for their crimes – who would fight, and should they win a set of duels to the death, they could escape their punishment.
Yes, something like that could keep him preoccupied.
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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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Published:2024-02-24Updated:2026-05-20Words:319,557Chapters:58/?Comments:1,548Kudos:3,726Bookmarks:1,072Hits:221,375
A Young Woman's Inevitable Dance of the Dragons
Failninjaninja
Chapter 47
Notes:
Apologies for the delay - I have become absurdly hyper-fixated on another story. I can't promise a timetable on anything going forward, I find a lot of enjoyment in just going where my muse takes me. But I do love this story and plan to continue, I only caution it may or may not be as regularly updated as it was before.
Also BIG thank you to MARch_Of_Time for their proof reading. They also did some extensive enhancements to certain POVs including everyone's favorite devoted husband!
Chapter Text
Chapter 47
"What really matters is what comes next." -From the Saga of Tanya the Evil Vol. 1
Otto felt a strange discontent with the recent events. The discord between Viserys and Daemon was auspicious, and the penalties on the Stepstones and the Stormlands was likewise an aid to his cause. And yet, matters were not as well as they might be.
The Stormlands' diminishment is a boon now, but I'd hoped to ally with them; my hot-headed grandson has sundered that design.
He was uncertain what course to take with Aemond. The boy's dragon was indispensable – Vermithor, the greatest asset at his disposal and perhaps the sole counter to Vhagar's might. He still harbored hope that his assassins would see Laena slain when the time came, yet the enemy's heightened vigilance rendered success ever more tenuous.
Damn Elaena – of course she would act to thwart assassination. These new 'professional' knightly orders might prove an even greater obstacle than the Kingsguard.
Sending Rhaenyra to the Vale was a mixed blessing. The Vale was already inclined to support her, making its gain of little consequence. His true concern lay in the possibility that Viserys might follow through on his threat to bypass Rhaenyra's generation and name Jacaerys as heir. Such a move would shatter his strongest argument against a woman's ascension to the Iron Throne. Though it would bolster the charge of bastardy, the peril of voicing it openly was too great to ignore.
Viserys had relented on Daeron's exile, permitting his return to King's Landing – though not to Oldtown. With fortune, the boy had left a favorable impression upon the houses of Gulltown. There yet remained a chance to prevent a fully unified Vale when war inevitably came.
I must also consider what marriage pacts should be made. I have five potential pawns and should look to make use of them before Viserys finally perishes.
The first match he would push for would be his granddaughter, Daenora with Kermit Tully. Daenora was two years younger, and while Kermit Tully was only the grandson of the current Lord of Riverrun, he did stand to inherit once his grandfather and eventually his father passed. Getting Elmo and Grover Tully to agree may be a challenge, but a dragon-riding daughter of a King was a powerful match for any noble, even a Paramount Lord.
Another vexing reality was that Viserys had not waned in health, as all signs had once foretold. Otto had long been counseled that the King's excesses would see him to an early grave, yet now that fate seemed less certain. The timeline of his plans was askew.
He summoned Larys to give his report on suitable candidates for Aemond, Daeron, Uthor, and Baelon.
The man limped into the chamber and took a seat.
"I regret to inform you that I was unable to secure a marriage alliance with Lady Falwell. I would surmise that my own affliction soured our chances there," Larys stated matter-of-factly, devoid of rancor, though Otto wondered how he truly felt. "As for marriage prospects, there are some promising options."
Larys waited a few heartbeats until Otto was about to speak, and then continued.
"Dorne presents an intriguing opportunity. Aliandra Martell, heir to House Martell and future ruler of Dorne, is presently nine. Winning her hand may prove difficult, but success would secure a powerful ally. Should the Prince of Dorne refuse to betroth his heir, her younger sister, Coryanne Martell, aged six, remains an option. Aemond could suit Aliandra, though for Coryanne, we might propose Uthor, who is closer in age."
Otto stroked his beard in thought. With the Stormlands likely lost to their cause, an alliance with Dorne made sense. Though traditional enemies, they could serve as a potent counterbalance. Unfortunately, the Dornish appeared entangled in brisk trade with the Velaryons, rendering the match difficult to secure.
But if it comes from Viserys… yes, I can convince him that this would build a foundation for a more lasting peace to unite the Targaryen and Dornish lines. I believe the match with their heir to be unlikely, but Uthor would still be a tie and reason for the Dornish to aid our cause in the event we cannot resolve the succession quickly.
"Good, what else?"
"Lorra Bolton, she is Aemond's age and still unbetrothed. She has three brothers, so we cannot secure that house through marriage, but the Boltons have always chafed under the Starks. My view is that the Starks will honor their oaths," Larys mused, offering one of his enigmatic smiles. "As for the Boltons, they will follow their oaths only as long as it serves their interests. Aemond may deem the match beneath him, but if you can persuade him, the Boltons would welcome a connection to the royal family. And of course Daeron is another option, though he would chafe under being tied to a 'heathen' family."
Otto frowned. He did not believe the North held any true sway in the succession. Part of him longed to humble the arrogant youth, and the idea of forcing him to marry some frigid woman from the North had a certain appeal, but it was dangerous. Aemond knew his worth and the Green's dependency upon him.
"What other possibilities?"
"Alannys Blacktyde, she's a woman who fights and raids. A favored niece of Lord Blacktyde, we could win his support. Aemond may be convinced of the match if he is impressed by her martial abilities."
Otto wasn't sure he liked that idea at all. "She's twenty and still unwed? I'll not have another royal match that proves barren, why else would she not be wed?"
"My sources say she does not wish to wed, but an offer from a prince who rides a dragon? That may well sway her and her uncle."
Otto was dissatisfied with all these options for one reason or another, but alas, there were no perfect matches that would suit his needs.
"The final suggestion would be to seek allies in Essos. Prince Aemond values his Valyrian heritage greatly. A match with a prominent daughter from Essos could provide a counter to Daemon and Tyrosh. War nearly broke out before, and we could manipulate events to bring it about once more – something the King will surely lay at his brother's feet."
Now that is an idea, but it could also backfire and make him even stronger.
"If Aemond proves intractable, then I will consider an Essosi match. Until then, keep me appraised, but do not approach any as a potential match."
"As you wish, my Lord Hand."
Otto decided there was no sense in delay and found the King working on his ridiculous miniature city. He supposed it was a good thing the man had something to distract him from interfering in Otto's schemes, but it all seemed so childish to him. Pining for the glories of the past, when one could be seizing the glories of the future.
"Your Grace, do you have a moment to speak with me about a potential marriage alliance with one of your sons?"
"I do, my friend. Who is the lucky woman, and for which son? I have a number of them," he said proudly.
"For Aemond. His fostering with the Baratheons did not go well, but I believe that has more to do with Lord Borros than in any fault in your son. Recent events seem proof of that."
Viserys frowned. "Aye, you have the right of that! Who is the girl?"
"Princess Aliandra Martell of Dorne. As heir to Dorne, she would be worthy of a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. This would be a difficult match to win, yet it would secure peace between our realms. If you were to make it known to Prince Qoren how vital this is for lasting peace, I believe we may yet prevail through the union. And should he still not consent after suitable pressure, he will be tempted to grant his approval for an alternative match – his other daughter to Prince Uthor."
Viserys was nodding. "Well reasoned," the King smiled, delight shimmering in his eyes. "I do enjoy seeing my children married and happy. Can you believe my little Elaena will soon bear her own child? A joyous occasion that has me cursing the slow passage of time."
How I long to see both babe and mother perish in the birthing bed, yet the Gods have not seen fit to grant me such fortune. I doubt they will do so now.
"Yes, a truly auspicious moment." Otto moved the conversation back to the matter at hand. "So then shall we move forward? I will draft a letter with your signature, and believe it would be best to have it delivered in person by Aegon. He has become quite the diplomat and carries your legacy of peace and reason quite well."
Viserys nodded, smiling. "Aye, Aegon has impressed me. He possesses a good head on his shoulders. He may one day replace you as Hand of the King, should he stay on his present course."
No, not Hand, he will be King. You grooming him to be the next Hand can be misconstrued as you preparing him as an alternate heir.
"I bow before your wisdom, Your Grace. He is quite young and I have many years of service left in me, but we could begin to have him sit on the small council as an observer."
Viserys smiled again. "I am well pleased we are of like mind, my friend. Yes, go and send Aegon, and when he returns, regardless of Prince Qoren's answer, we shall add a chair and explain my eldest son's new duty to learn and observe."
Otto knew that no matter the impediments the Gods set before him, he would simply adjust his course and find a new path. Nothing would stay his hand from crowning Aegon, nothing.
***
Jessamyn Redfort dined with Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Jeyne Arryn. They did so every evening, even though Rhaenyra was sullen company. She had arrived a moon ago, and other than attempting to despoil the Eyrie's stores each night, there was little conversation.
I had hoped that seeing her husband again would lift her spirits, but it has proven to be the contrary.
Instead of sullen, she was wroth and had attacked the ham as a knight might a bandit. The Dark Storm had arrived in the morning and spoken with his wife. His appearance had been cordial and well-attired; save for his windblown hair, which was less-in-place than it had been at the great wedding two years prior, he had looked much the same.
His exit, however, was a furious one. Fortunately, his wrath had not manifested in any physical harm, save for some soiled breeches as he swept past terrified guards and servants. The relatively quiet meals were something Jessamyn could not long endure, and the deep desire to know consumed her wholly.
"Princess Rhaenyra, you quarreled with your husband. It is not my place to pry, but I have oft found that sharing a burden may lighten it. Would you tell us what is amiss?"
Rhaenyra's violet eyes snapped up. "What is amiss is that my husband fails to grasp that betrayal demands answer!"
Jessamyn's eyes met her lover's before Jeyne asked, "Betrayal?"
"My sister! She is the one who convinced my father to send me away from my family. And now she has the gall to ask for a dragon egg for the child she will birth? She cares more for her ledgers than for my happiness," frustration and hurt warred in Rhaenyra's voice.
Elaena was responsible for preventing Daemon's war? Fascinating…
Out loud, she said, "I am sorry – a sibling bond must be kept tightly knit. I can well imagine your grief and frustration over her actions, and yet I must ask, why then the anger toward Ser Laenor?"
Rhaenyra's face twisted with disgust. "Because he believes Elaena's transgression should be forgiven simply because she thinks first of the kingdom's good rather than her sister!"
Silence lingered as both other ladies attempted to parse that outburst. Considering even cursory implications of those words did not bring to mind much in the way of flattering interpretations.
After a moment of heavy breathing, Rhaenyra set down her fork. "I do not resent my sister for telling my father of Daemon's plans – I, too, tried to dissuade him. No, my wroth stems from her belief that time away from my most precious people would grant me clarity of thought. Her actions took my children from me. Temporary though it may be, I will never regain this lost time."
Jessamyn found this discussion fascinating. Rhaenyra was spilling her innermost thoughts and feelings, and Lady Arryn's Mistress of Whisperers was mentally cataloging it all. The princess's drinking throughout the day had likely contributed to her lack of poise and control.
"I cannot pretend to understand," Jeyne said, a sharp and shrewd look flashing across her eyes, "as I have no children of my own. But I can see how justifiably distraught you are. I have heard that those with child are oft known to be less stable, and with your sister carrying her first babe in her womb, may it not be possible that her normal manner of thinking is askew?"
Jessamyn had always found that sort of thinking ridiculous, as it had more to do with men seeking any excuse to place women lower in the social hierarchy, and she knew Jeyne felt the same. This was merely an attempt to calm Rhaenyra down and prevent any further divide between the two sisters. Unlike the King, both Jeyne and Jessamyn feared what would occur during the succession. They had long ago decided to support Rhaenyra's claim over anything the Greens might try, and losing the support of Elaena and the Leffords would be a mighty blow. Not only was she a dragon rider, her influence with the Dragon Bank was immense.
Immense enough, it would seem, to end wars before they could even begin. It was not only that a surely staggering amount of information must be available to Elaena for such a thing to be possible, but also that she had recognized and acted decisively on it. Investigating the larger truth of such influence had just jumped right to the top of Jessamyn's priorities.
Rhaenyra made a disgusted sound, pulling Jessamyn back to the present. "That may be, but my husband should side with me, not my sister. Nor should he tremble in fear of her potential anger at being denied."
Jessamyn had a hard time imagining the Dark Storm trembling in fear. More like he was struggling to stay his wrath at his wife's foolishness, as it seemed his efforts to preserve the support of Elaena's influence had gone wholly ignored by his wife. Jeyne, too, looked quite skeptical. Rhaenyra's own words painted an image of the infamous warrior's shrewd political acumen, and yet she did not even recognize the blunder he was attempting to avert?
If nothing else, hearing that the Dark Storm valued Elaena's support so heavily was but more confirmation of Jessamyn's own budding conclusions. And more worrying for the immediate conversation.
"I am sure Ser Laenor merely wants to maintain the sisterly love you have for each other." Jessamyn put on a face of concern and slight fear. "Oh, my, I had an ill thought, Your Grace. What if he fears Elaena's fate in the birthing bed? After what happened to your mother… I could well see his concern if you two were at odds and then something dire happened to your only full-blooded sister."
Rhaenyra recoiled as if struck. "I… I had not thought of that." Her eyes grew moist. "I won't even be there for the birth, thanks to my father's actions, which Elaena precipitated."
There was silence for a time, and then Rhaenyra shook herself. "Regardless, my sister must learn she cannot play with my life like this. Perhaps I will relent if she seeks my forgiveness for her actions, but not before. It isn't as if her children are certain to remain dragon-less by my decision. Silverwing or Dreamfyre may lay another clutch, or perhaps Viktoriya will prove to be fertile. I have made my decision, and I will not be like my father and go to and fro based on a whim."
Jessamyn nodded in sympathy, though there was a tightness behind her eyes. "You have every right; you are the heir to the Iron Throne. We just hate to see you and your husband upset with each other. Your match is a story of our time, the Realm's Delight and the Dark Storm, the wisdom and beauty matched with power and might."
Rhaenyra laughed bitterly. "Is it now? Laenor does not…" she stopped abruptly. "A stray thought, of no consequence, forget it."
Jessamyn pushed further, despite Lady Arryn's shocked expression. "He does not love you as a man does a woman, because he has other tastes, we know, and understand quite well that sort of situation."
Rhaenyra's full lips opened in surprise as her gaze swiveled from Jeyne to Jessamyn. "That is why you are unwed! You care for women more than men – ah, 'tis more frequent than I once thought then. I can well understand that desire," her eyes flashed with a hungry gleam, "and yet the feel of a strong man as he…"
Jessamyn listened with some embarrassment as the well-in-her-cups heir to the Iron Throne shared things not oft discussed at a dinner table! And especially ones she had no desire to imagine!
Rhaenyra appeared more relaxed now and less angry with Laenor. As the night wore on, she drank more and soon had to be taken to her chambers.
"That was risky, Jessamyn. You go too far at times."
Jessamyn smiled. "Nonsense, my love. Rhaenyra needs an outlet and a way to voice her frustrations. Garnering her trust as we sympathize with her situation can only strengthen us. We know our Lord Hand has designs on the Vale; why else place Prince Daeron with the Gilded Falcon? Should the Greens be triumphant after the King passes, your rule very well may come to an end. We must ensure Rhaenyra is our friend, and we must steer her away from her self-destructive nature. She grows thick of waist and wit with the excess drink and food she consumes."
Jeyne did not look convinced, and Jessamyn knew she would consider her counsel carefully. Lady Arryn did not like hasty decision-making; in that way, she was quite the opposite of Princess Rhaenyra. Regardless, the princess's presence here was both an opportunity and a danger – something they would need to navigate with great care.
***
Kevan paced back and forth, livid.
"How can your sister blame you for her own actions!? This is preposterous, and our child is innocent of any wrongdoing besides! Does she truly believe that our babe deserves no dragon egg for the cradle, after all you've done for her, for her husband's family?"
His wife regarded him serenely from her seat on the plush settee, a stack of ledgers set to her side. "She is agitated by my actions, but 'tis her right to deal with the eggs as she will. Should Dreamfyre, Silverwing, Tessarion, or my own dragon lay any eggs, I am certain our child will have one. And should it not be the case, there may be other options when the babe is older."
There was truth to these alternatives, Kevan knew, even while gripped by indignant ire, but all of them entailed years of planning or waiting. Most of all, such considerations failed to reach the heart of the matter.
Kevan shook his head. "I do not understand, why are you not upset? This is a betrayal, in my view. You have done so much to strengthen the Seven Kingdoms and aid her husband's family. To dismiss all your past support for the sake of petty grievance is so wrong that it beggars belief, Elaena. It pains me in mind and heart just to dwell on the idea."
His wife gave a slow nod of acknowledgement as she rested somewhat more into the upholstery behind her, taking a few sips of her favored tea before again setting it aside, picking up the next ledger. It gave Kevan time to settle his breathing and ease the strain out of his voice.
He knew Elaena had taken this pause for his own sake. It was her way of silently affirming his reaction and the reasoning behind it, but also a subtle insistence on the need for composure. A quiet sort of support, but firm of will and courtly in manner – and so very Elaena.
His wife was but a few months away from delivering their child, and she still moved with her regular grace despite the moderate swell of her belly. The dresses she wore of late now included softer silks, satins, or velvets, often in delightfully exquisite layers or thicker designs.
Day after day, the flowing of fabrics followed Elaena's elegant movements in such a way as to seem like she were gliding across the floor, both concealing and accentuating in turn as if the weight of pregnancy were a mere suggestion or adornment upon her form rather than a burden, to the point where one could easily forget she was with child. Her balance as ever remained flawless, and the way she shifted her center and shoulders slightly back as she strode always resulted in her head being held high and proud.
Despite her condition and the typical expectations of it, Elaena cast an even more confident and authoritative visage when she moved about her business. Even when dealing with this latest foolishness from her family, she seemed almost peaceful and unbothered in her composure.
Her detached serenity was at odds with the infuriating news; for whatever reason, even such an egregious affront from her own sister did not seem to perturb her. As much as this confused him, it engaged Kevan's long-held instincts to stop, think, and observe.
Kevan wound down his pacing after having vented much of his ill feelings, shooting a grateful look towards his wife. She had closed her eyes, long lashes catching the light, seemingly content for all the world to wait for him as she thought over the ledger in her hands. She looked so mesmerizing even in such a mundane setting, long hair let loose in privacy and full lips pursed just so while she worked.
The bundled white, silver, and pale blue silks she wore today in the seclusion of her chambers conveyed a strong sense of softness about her frame and shoulders. Such luxurious fabrics and cloth supply were continual gifts from the many merchants and nobles owing Elaena their gratitude, while some fashions and styles were inspired by the passionate efforts of his wife's frequently-favored handmaiden, Lady Selene Falwell. If today's attire were one of those, then Lady Falwell had Kevan's utmost approval for garbing his wife so as to make Mother and Maiden both pale in comparison.
Elaena inspired everyone around her to be the best of themselves, her handmaidens and Kevan himself no exceptions. Rather, they were perhaps the most affected of all. So when Elaena was troubled by an excess of rare gifts, Lady Falwell had taken to them with a gleam in her eye and a mind for expanding her princess's wardrobe. The results had apparently been such a boon to both courtly fashion and his wife's personal comfort that Elaena barely grumbled at all about wearing them, and even gave Selene approving written reviews.
It was only when Kevan's pacing had come to a complete stop and his mind returned from wandering that his wife reopened her eyes, brushing silver-gold locks away from her cheek. Said silvery locks shimmered as the light caught and played all the way down their whole lengths to where they pooled at her waist. It passed by in but a single moment, yet such moments were treasures that enriched life most fully. When her gaze again met his own, her bright eyes felt both calm and understanding.
"All you have said is true, but the hope is that she will gain maturity and discernment while at the Eyrie. If it is successful, I have no doubt she will relent. If she does not relent, then we have a clue that her hoped-for growth has not occurred. A test such as that is useful. I am sure you can grasp the importance of such, no?"
Kevan let the matter drop from conversation. Elaena had made her decision to not be upset by the news, and so she was not. She trusted him to understand her viewpoint, just as she affirmed his own despite disagreeing. Trusting her in turn had become quite natural to Kevan by now, after the countless times she proved that such trust was beyond worth placing in her.
The reminder that he was perhaps the only person she held so highly in her confidences brought a pang of affection and joy to his heart.
It was probably for the best that she did not share his feelings about her sister, as anger and anxiety could cause harm, or so the Maesters said. Rhaenyra had been kind enough to him in the past, but this action of hers seemed a vicious cruelty. Elaena adored flying, and to be denied the chance for their child to have a dragon of their own was appalling. Was such a thing really worth enduring in Elaena's deeper political considerations?
"As you say, my love." Kevan ran a hand through his hair as he let out a long breath, "That aside then, Father wonders whom he can expect to come when the time nears."
"My mother is already making her way here overland. She trusts not dragonback, but my father will join her once my expected delivery time comes. My siblings, save for Rhaenyra, are most like to come, as well I suspect are Ser Laenor and Rhaenys. I have not heard from Lady Laena, and while I would not mind her company and the ability to make inquiries about Prince Daemon, I am grateful that he will not attend. My uncle aggravates me."
That last line was delivered with a sardonic hint to it, one which Kevan embraced.
He allowed himself to give several sagely nods while rubbing his chin. "Yes, I think he still mislikes me as well over that duel with Lord Selmy. Who would have thought?"
Elaena gave a small, musical laugh, the sound utterly delightful to Kevan's ears. "Perhaps. My uncle has many listed grievances; I am not sure how well you rank. Perhaps somewhere just below the entire population of the Vale?"
"All the better!" Kevan agreed in good humor, lips once again forming a fond smile at his wife's amusement. He was not bad with the blade, but Daemon could outmatch him even without his dragon.
Still, Elaena turned her once-again thoughtful gaze back to him. "I am reminded though, has there been more progress with the 'bunker' project I asked you to work on?"
Kevan nodded as his mind immediately turned to recalling details. "Yes, I still think it is excessive, but if it makes you feel safer, then I do not mind the excess. The diggers and miners have excavated the area. There are water sources secured and furnishings prepared. After you mentioned the idea last we spoke of it, scribes are copying various texts to store there for leisure or education. Clothing and bedding suitable for all seasons have been set aside, as well as some accessories convenient for disguise. Three hidden entrances exist, and the open primary one can be swiftly sealed. Dragons could not tear it down, though living underground for a time would be quite dreary."
"On that we are agreed, but there may come a time when I am away and our children must be kept safe. Golden Tooth is a formidable fortress, but it will melt just as easily as Harrenhal, perhaps moreso. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it," Elaena said simply, voice not bearing any hint of dread or concern.
Kevan could not help but shiver a bit. The security and contingencies Elaena sought would only be necessary if something awful took place. With Daemon squarely blaming Elaena for thwarting his expansion efforts, it could only be her uncle that worried her so. That she even pondered such extremes was in part both comforting and concerning. It seemed Kevan's own idle comments had reminded her of those worries, and for that he was regretful.
Would he go so far as to become a kinslayer? I truly do not know. But my wife will not lack for security or defenses on my watch. Doubtless that's the reason she asked it of me to oversee the 'bunker' personally.
Time had passed while Kevan was lost amidst his thoughts, and Elaena had finished reviewing the ledgers, now wearing a frown that managed to intensify the severity in her bright blue eyes.
"It seems we have someone pilfering from the construction fund. It is not large sums, but because we are using double bookkeeping, there are two or more individuals working together. I want to nip this in the bud."
Kevan suppressed a grimace. The price for theft like this only had a few potential sentences. Loss of a hand or head, or perhaps the Wall.
"I will have the results double-checked and then take care of it."
"No, I will do this myself."
His wife's calm declaration inspired some unease in Kevan. Looking upon her, an icon of beauty and motherhood, it felt wrong to have her oversee the handling of crime or bloody punishment in her state.
"Elaena, we spoke about this…"
"Yes, you all did speak of it, and I assured you that I am still perfectly capable of using my eyes and my mind while we wait for the birthing bed. Fraud is not something I can let go, it would be better to spend two stags to save one, if it means we eliminate treacherous thieves. The ones who do this create mistrust and require even more onerous accounting and triplicate checking. Few activities are fouler, and I will not suffer them lightly."
That statement silenced his half-baked objections.
Elaena's handmaidens and Kevan had all worked together to try to convince her to slow down a bit, to purely relax for herself and the child, but Elaena was not someone you could move when she did not wish to. Nor, in truth, did the Maesters say they had detected any harmful effects from her work. She and the babe seemed perfectly healthy at this juncture. Moreso even than most could reasonably hope for, as she hardly suffered any of the typical discomforts or pains of the condition.
Thank the Seven!
Every time the topic came up, there was only a faint sense of smug satisfaction in Elaena's smile, and she would calmly tell him that she was certain she knew her own body and condition better. But Kevan and the handmaidens kept a watchful eye nonetheless, always ensuring there was a convenient arm nearby should she ever need one to lean upon. Her skin and complexion seemed almost vibrant with health and life at times, so it was difficult to keep protesting too much.
The one occasion Kevan recalled her seeming more alarmingly tired than usual after a long day, he'd offered to carry her in his arms up the stairs and halls. He would treasure the brief look of pure, unguarded mortification in her expression for as long as he lived, as well the memory of it softening into a lopsided smile. She declined with graceful amusement of course, but she did lean upon his arm perhaps a bit more heavily as they walked. The closeness he felt with her in that moment remained strong in his heart.
No argument or persuasion they gave convinced her of much, but they had at least managed to surround her with more and more comforts or relaxing conveniences. If their princess would insist on working the hardest of all, then they resolved to have her do it in the greatest of comforts as possible.
Kevan seemed more stressed than she was. The new walk-in bath had been created and he regularly luxuriated in it as it soothed the tensions within his body, or bruises from the practice yard. What's more, some of the freed Tyroshi had been born and trained in Lys before being bought by slavers in Tyrosh, and some had valuable skills or experience with baths, steam-rooms, and various means of relaxation. All of which were received with particular enthusiasm by his wife. A young woman of Valyrian coloring was particularly favored by Elaena for her skills in massages of the feet, hands, or joints.
With the amount of work and writing Elaena and her retinue undertook, a position in Golden Tooth's expanded wings and bathworks was quickly secured for the masseuse, who now regularly attended the industrious lady of the castle and her diligent handmaidens. By all accounts, the young woman was reverently devoted and awed by the princess and her silver dragon. Understandable, really, given how Tyrosh fell.
And regarding their work, the new city had individual buildings completed, and the bones of the larger whole had been well set. The amount of planning that had gone into every aspect of the construction still astounded at times. It had yet another year or two before it could truly function as a city properly, but the speed was still mightily impressive.
But all that aside, if his wife wanted to punish those harming the projects she held so close to her heart, then so be it.
"As you say. I'd hoped to spare you these distasteful tasks, but I will have the knights detain and then bring them before you so you can glean what they have done."
Before Kevan left, he gave his stunningly beautiful wife a kiss on her lips and a careful embrace, the feeling of her frame hugged snugly within his arms staying with him throughout the day.
The work always seemed to continue, and it did make the time breeze by. The faster it progressed, the happier he was, for his hopes for his wife and child were still fraught with the uncertain terror of a calamity befalling them in the birthing bed. It was a battlefield he had no way of helping with, and that too frustrated him, so productive distractions were welcomed by all involved.
It is in the hands of the Gods and the good Maesters. I know not what I would do if something were to happen.
***
Aemond flew on Vermithor and pondered.
The very thought of his sister, Elaena, suffering in childbirth filled him with a cold, frustratingly vague fury. It caused a strange tightness and annoying clenching at the back of his throat just to think of it. At the same time, he knew that she could handle its perils. Others did not have that same optimism. Before, his mother had looked positively ill and fretted with worry. His father also paced relentlessly, and Aegon was taciturn. His other sisters, at least, seemed eager to meet their new nephew or niece.
The recent events and the shaming of Rhaenyra and Daemon were to the good of the Green cause, but in truth, Aemond welcomed war with Essos. It was one area where, for once, he did not share Elaena's opinion. After she recovered from childbirth, he looked forward to debating his reasons with her. Armed with logic, he believed he could change her mind. Essos should be ruled by his family, and while he didn't care about the slavery and suffering of its people, they would be useful arguments.
Naturally, he didn't want Daemon's own holdings to expand, but Aemond was the second son of a king. Daemon was a second son of a king's heir. Ruling an Essosi city was not a terrible destiny for second sons, and the creativity and wealth of Myr would make for a fine seat. Volantis, with the blood of Old Valyria coursing through it, would be pleasing as well.
His sharp eyes spotted another dragon below him. Aemond was within an hour's flight of the Tooth, and as he gazed at it, he decided it must be Vermax and his rider, Jacaerys. An amused grin crossed his features, and he angled Vermithor forward. The rider below noticed something had moved and blocked the sun, most likely looking up in startlement. Aemond was not even close enough to hear, but by the jagged lurch Vermax made, it was clear the pair had been unnerved.
They angled in a different direction, and Aemond matched them for a time. When Vermax went to wheel, Aemond redirected Vermithor onward to his destination. The thought of dragon-fear being inflicted on the arrogant boy who thought he would one day be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms was entertaining, but Aemond was anxious to see his sister.
Soon he arrived and there was a massive set of House Targaryen banners in an open field.
Ah, the place I am to land.
He landed with Vermithor and was escorted by two knights toward the Tooth.
"Welcome to the Golden Tooth, Prince Aemond. Quarters have been prepared for you, and after you have refreshed yourself, Princess Elaena would be pleased to see you."
Aemond knew there was still some time before the birthing, so he would be well pleased to speak with her. Footsteps came from behind and he half-turned.
"Aemond!" Jace yelled. "What in the Seven Hells was that? Do you think you can intimidate me?"
"Yes," Aemond said simply, with a bored expression.
Why would I not, when my mere presence is enough for you to divest yourself of dignity? That is, if you ever had any at all from the moment of your bastardly birth. Typical.
Jace balled his fists and stepped forward, but one of the silver-gilt knights bearing the blue and yellow heraldry of House Lefford strode betwixt them.
"There will be no conflict here," the knight said firmly.
"And who are you to say so?" Aemond drawled. "We are of House Targaryen and shall do as we will."
The knight looked at Aemond and met his gaze without any hesitation.
"You are guests, though not yet bound by guest-right, but guests nonetheless under the protection of Princess Elaena Targaryen."
Aemond shifted his head and noted what was said. The knight would appear to be sworn to House Lefford, but was clearly his sister's creature. The man had steel for a spine to not be intimidated by a prince of the realm, and knew that Elaena would not tolerate misbehavior.
She never had.
"I would never embarrass my sister by causing harm to another guest, unless they attempted to harm me. My young nephew may have a fight if he wishes it, but it will be he who strikes the first blow, not I. I have too much respect for Princess Elaena."
Jace gave a sharp jerk of his head. "I will not add to the stress Aunt Elaena must endure due to your recklessness, but we will have words anon."
I look forward to it, little nephew.
Later that day he saw Elaena waiting in the main hall. For some reason he had thought she would be laying in a bed. That was practically all Aemond could remember the Queen doing when with child.
The sight of Elaena with a hefty swell to her waist while wrapped in plush velvets and silk, looking at him with fondness in her bright blue eyes, stirred within him a strange impulse to protect or guard her.
"You are a bit early, brother, but 'tis good to see you." His dearest sister greeted.
Aemond dismissed his heart's sudden senseless hesitation as his mind conjured wry thoughts and commiserating words. He briefly considered offering a hug, before discarding the idea.
"You seem in fine spirits, though I know it is not the case. I feel, were I to embrace you wrongly, your belly would surely burst."
While his reluctance to cause discomfort was true, Aemond felt she bore her burden far better than those her lesser. When with child, Queen Alicent had ever looked miserable and drained, pallid or pained, as far as Aemond could recall. In contrast, Elaena looked to be a beacon of health, beauty, and motherhood, as if like in all else it was only natural that she excel.
A brief pang of something akin to loss flitted through him at the reminder of Elaena's superiority, her nature as a dragon among dragons.
Truly, Aemond wasn't sure what he was expecting, or that he should have expected anything less. Elaena's upright posture and relaxed ease gave no indication that she suffered any discomfort.
Elaena's lips quirked into a smile. "I get enough of that from my husband. I am with child and need to take caution, true, but I am not so fragile. I believe it shall be less than a fortnight before the labors begin."
Aemond nodded. He had come early, but he did not wish to miss being there for his sister in any case.
As they walked towards the residential quarters, he made light conversation in part for the joy of listening her smooth, confident voice again. They strolled at a sedate pace, and Aemond only realized after a short while that he was matching her slower, measured strides unconsciously. His trained eye for dueling soon noticed how her steps were a mastery in gracefulness.
She was constantly shifting in balance to remain poised, a perfect combination of holding her head high, shifting her weight to the back of her feet at the just right times, and using the momentum of her belly moving forward to avoid any ungainliness to her gait, leaving only the slightest of sway. Flawless posture and movements preserved her dignified and regal demeanor despite the challenge of doing so with both widened hips and the swell of a babe.
The stillness of her shoulders and the length of her dress hid most every movement to provoke the illusion of gliding, while the gentle billowing of her vibrant Valyrian hair helped conceal and distract from motion. She wasn't moving with particular speed, but Aemond could only describe it as a 'dignified' pace, like it was not that she could not move faster, but that she simply chose not to.
Elaena remained by far the most elegant, able, and courtly woman Aemond had ever seen, even heavily with child and on the cusp of her first birth.
"Since I arrived with time aplenty, care for a game of Cyvasse?" Aemond proposed, eager to offer entertainment and engage with Elaena's sharp mind.
"Tomorrow after breakfast, certainly. I have too much to do today." She demurred, but kindly.
Too much to do? Is your husband so inadequate, so inferior? Lefford, why is your wife still seeing to things this far along? By the gods, she's bearing your child!
He felt some faint twisting or tension in his chest at the thoughts before again dismissing them.
"Tomorrow then, if you need anything, sister, anything at all, just speak it."
His sister gave him an appreciative nod and another slight smile, then Aemond departed somewhat reluctantly to find his mother.
Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, and Daenora would be arriving in the next few days, but his mother should have already arrived. His father would be riding on Dreamfyre with Helaena. He wasn't certain how many of the Blacks would come, but he wondered if there would be another repeat of the dual weddings.
Daeron has hopefully learned to guard his tongue. As amusing as it would be, I would rather not cause Elaena grief. Not this near to the birthing.
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