KING'S LANDING, 111 AC

⠀⠀⠀⠀The small council currently held its weekly meeting, with the six men deciding what was best for the Seven Kingdoms. Between the king's folly stories, others attempted to turn his attention to important matters; at the moment, he was too swept up in anticipation of his forthcoming heir to take such issues seriously. "Are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" Viserys inquired, silencing Lord Corlys' discussion of the Crabfeeder. Rhaenyra's entrance halted the conversation altogether, to the king's pleasure and the lord's dismay.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Lord Beesbury next attempted to have the king focus on essential matters. "Hey, Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging, the crown has invested significant capital in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch." The Hand knew precisely where this conversation was going and how fruitless it would be. "I thought you might urge your brother to fill his seat on the council and provide an assessment of his progress as commander of the Watch."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Viserys quickly stopped such a conversation, dismissing the older man with a remark about his well-invested gold. Corlys attempted to return the conversation to the Triarchy in the Stepstones, but he was silenced too. "The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys, and takes it under advisement," Otto cut him off. His tone was more callous than needed, as the rift between House Hightower and House Velaryon had not been fully repaired since the death of Oldtown's heir three years before. The Master of Ships looked at his king, and the king returned his gaze with a bored expression; there would be no further discussion of the Stepstones. "Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I would be delighted," Viserys replied, happy to occupy the time with matters he personally cared about. He turned his attention to Grand Maester Mellos to inquire if the predicted name day would hold, but he was interrupted by a loud roar in the distance. One beast could only produce such a cacophony: the formidable she-dragon Xadras. The Targaryen king smiled at the Velaryon lord who sat across from him, attempting to extend a metaphorical olive branch. "She has arrived."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Lord Otto, who had immediately stiffened upon hearing the unique sound, slowly turned his head to look at the king. "You did not tell me that Princess Vaerya would be returning to King's Landing, Your Grace." A small childish part of him felt betrayed, for he was the king's Hand and should know everything; the more significant part of him was just pissed that the woman who had caused so much trouble between two noble houses, and ultimately the entirety of the Realm, had returned from her self-imposed exile.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra's face was glowing, her body radiating with an excitement she could hardly contain. "Rya is here?" She was ignored, of course. Corlys spared her a sympathetic look and a slight nod of his head to confirm her question.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I knew you would not agree with my sister's return," Viserys answered Otto. "I believed it time for her to return to court."

⠀⠀⠀⠀The Hand, ever the calculated man, could not hold his tongue. "And did she bring her two bastard children with her?" He froze upon processing the words that had escaped his mouth. The other men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, awaiting the king's response. In a fit, Otto Hightower had committed treason: to question the paternity of Vaerya's twins to Erock had been outlawed moons after the announcement of their birth. "I am eternally sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean that." He tried to recover from his misstep. "Unresolved anger has misguided my judgment of the princess at current."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Viserys sighed, "Otto, the incident has been formally resolved for years. In light of the circumstances, the best outcome was reached. The Crown has lawfully forgiven House Hightower for the death of Arwyn Targaryen; Lord Hobert has agreed not to seek retribution against the princess for the death of Madwen in exchange for another eventual alliance between Houses Targaryen and Hightower when his other son comes of age; House Velaryon has also generously agreed to continue support both houses as long as no harm came to Vaerya."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Harm has still come to my daughter," Corlys voiced. "She has been secluded on Dragonstone for three years. Not to mention, she will never completely recover from the abuse she suffered by Madwen's hand and the brutal execution of her child."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"The child was a bastard, and she's a whore!" Otto argued. He did not care that his nephew was dead by the princess' doing. No, he was enraged that his house and legacy suffered insult after insult. Entirely blinded with rage, he uncharacteristically lost control of his lips again. "And after the bitch exiled herself, she birthed two more! She should have been disinherited. No, hung! You should count yourself lucky that my house did not seek further justice for the loss of its heir!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"And your house should be thanking my daughter for ridding the kingdom of such a man!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Viserys slammed his hand on the table. "Enough!" The two men closed their mouths but continued to shoot daggers at one another. "As your king, I command that no further discussion of my sister be had. The situation as a whole was complicated and what's done is done." He leaned back in his chair with an exasperated exhale; Gods, being king sucked the life out of him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He felt a twinge of a headache creep into his head. Discussing the princess seemed to always cause one. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stop it. "Let this be a reminder to you all. Baelar and Alaessa are the blood of Old Valaryia, and for that reason they have been legitimized by myself and the High Septon. Even though they reside in Winterfell by the princess' request, they are still dragons, and you will respect them as such. If you hear talk of any person who says otherwise, cut out their tongues. And if any one of you is to say otherwise, I will cut off your head."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra stayed silent, but she knew the truth. Her father had not legitimized Vaerya's twins because they were the blood of the dragon. No, she had sworn to reduce Oldtown to ash if her twins were taken from her as Virion had been. Viserys had reluctantly agreed and even allowed the twins to have dragons despite being part Stark. It was not only a way to hold together the Realm but also his way of absolving himself of his guilt of forcing his sister to wed a madman. To him, all was forgiven. His daughter knew otherwise: her aunt would never absolve him. She loved him with her entire heart, but Rhaenyra was beginning to feel her father knew nothing of being a king in anything but name.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The Iron Throne, made from the melted, twisted, beaten, and broken blades of Aegon the Conqueror's enemies, was a perilous seat. And yet, while it was the most dangerous in the world, it was also the most wanted. Vaerya Targaryen found her half-brother—not the king—sitting comfortably upon it. This made her uneasy, for no person should ever comfortably sit in such a chair. Still, he looked regal enough, like he belonged atop it. Looks could be deceiving. Everyone, even the woman who adored him, knew Daemon Targaryen was too temperamental to be king.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You are not the brother I expected to find upon the Iron Throne," she mused in High Valaryian. It was natural to speak to him in their ancient tongue. It connected them, acting as a ritual no one else could partake in unless they studied the language.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You are not the sibling I expected to stop me from sitting on it," he replied. "This could easily be my chair one day."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Her lackluster laugh bounced off the walls of the empty throne room. Even though it lacked the merriment it once had, it was still a sound that made his heart beat faster. As she drew closer, he was able to take in her features. She carried herself straighter, the time away from court obviously not decreasing her etiquette but making it more proper. Her face had lost the elements of girlhood, her cheeks hollow and eyes deep set. Her stay in Winterfell and Dragonstone had clearly aged her. No, it was the trauma that had: her son's death was when she altogether ceased being a girl and became a woman.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I heard you have not been to court in ages, dear brother. How do you expect to be considered for heir?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Court is so dreadfully boring, sweet sister."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Then why return at all?" She inquired, now standing at the foot of the stone steps that led up to the throne.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He leaned forward. "I heard you were returning." In a fluid motion befitting a prince like himself, he rose from the throne and descended the steps, so he was a foot in front of her. She looked lovely up close but in an unearthly way a specter would. "Besides, our brother is hosting a tournament in my honor."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"He is hosting a tournament for his new heir," she said with a roll of her amethyst eyes. "Speaking of which, I hear you still have not produced any of your own."

⠀⠀⠀⠀He scoffed, but the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips never faltered. He would have had their head if anyone else said such a thing. But it was his darling Rya who had said it. She could say whatever she wanted, and he would defend her word. "And you have two now with the Stark boy. Tell me, how does he feel confined to the North with his royal children while the woman he loves runs about?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"He loves our children more than anything. He also understood the implications of loving and laying with me."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"And he knows you will eventually be forced to marry another?" Daemon was deadly close to her now, his eyes peering down into her soul. He was taunting her, edging her on. He wished for the girl he fell in love with to return to him. He so badly wanted the closed bud of a person in front of him to flourish again. He just needed to pry her open and let her bloom.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Ser Erock is a good man and an even better father to the twins. He knows what is expected of him and myself."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Do you miss him?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Of course."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Did you miss me?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Endlessly."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Daemon's smirk softened into a genuine smile. The equal curve of his pink lips surprised the woman; he did not smile very often. It warmed her chest and her cheeks. Vaerya looked away in an attempt to calm the heart rapidly slamming inside her chest. He still desired her, but most importantly, she was still the only person he had ever desired. Even after all these years, she was thrilled to know she was the only one capable of holding such a place in his heart. He believed her to look more alive and like her old self, with a tinge of pink dusting her cheeks.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"There she is," he doted, and she immediately understood that she must be resembling the likeness of her girlhood. "I brought you something." He produced a necklace from the pocket of his trousers. It was made of two steel-linked chains. The bottom one held a pendant in which a bold ruby was housed. "Valaryian steel to match your bracelet." His eye flicked to her left wrist to confirm that she still wore the piece of jewelry he had gifted to her on her tenth-name day. She did. She never removed it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"One day I will have more Valaryian steel than you do," she mused, turning so he could place the necklace around her bare neck. She swept her silver hair over one shoulder to allow him easier access.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The man carefully looped the chain around her neck before clasping it. She turned back around to show him. His eyes naturally wondered the colorful pendant that rested above the swell of her breasts. It took great strength to draw his gaze away and make eye contact with her again. "My beautiful Rya, you can have anything you want."

⠀⠀⠀⠀He swore her violet eyes sparkled and not because of the rays of sunlight filtering through the great windows that lined the room's walls. She opened her mouth to reply, and he awaited for it in anticipation but never received one. His high spirits were dashed as one of the heavy metal doors groaned open, and a girlish squeal echoed around them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Rya!" Rhaenyra cheered. The woman turned from Daemon to face her niece, who was bounding towards them in a flurry of silk skirts. Even at five-and-ten, she managed to maintain a childish nature about herself. The young princess was full of whimsy that many others had stolen from them. Vaerya hoped Rhaenyra's was never taken. If it was, there would be hell to pay.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"My lovely Nyra," she greeted the girl warmly. She took the girl in her arms and held her close. The smell of lavender oil and dragon filled her nose. She could not help but laugh. Rhaenyra had not changed, it seemed, only aged.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Uncle," Rhaenyra finally acknowledged Daemon. "Ser Harrold warned me of your arrival. Father does not know yet."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Ah yes," he sighed. "I wish to keep it that way for awhile longer if you do not mind, princess. I hoped to spend time with my sister before we are inevitably whisked away from one another."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra felt slightly defensive against his words. She did not know why, but she did not like the idea of being forced to share her aunt's attention with her uncle. She wanted all of the woman's attention. After all, it had been so long since they had seen one another. "Clearly you have had time with her. It is now my turn."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Hush," shushed Vaerya. She took the girl's hand and gently squeezed it to regain her attention. "Isn't the necklace Daemon brought for me beautiful, Nyra?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Her mouth went dry as she peered at the pendant. It rose and fell with the motion of her aunt's chest as she breathed. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded as her senses went fuzzy, and her fingers tingled. She had secretly admired Alicent like this before but never so up close—and Alicent was not Vaerya. "Yes," she spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "Beautiful."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Daemon did not miss how his niece was drawn to the swell of his sister's chest nor how her cheeks turned bright red. How cute. It seemed he was not the only Targaryen interested in the Dragon Princess. "Rhaenyra," he said, bating her to look away. She hesitantly did, gaze flitting between him and the object of her girlish interest. "I brought you one too."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh," she vocalized, surprised. Daemon had always been kind to her, always bringing her gifts when he returned to court, but when Vaerya was in King's Landing, she was often overlooked by him. She never minded, knowing he would eventually make it up another time when her aunt inevitably returned to Driftmark for the latter part of the year.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra turned just as the other woman had to allow him to place the gift around her neck. She removed the current necklace she wore in exchange for the Valaryian steel. Vaerya delicately touched the girl's pendant, and her skin was set aflame.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Now we all have a piece of our ancestry," the older princess said. "As long as our hearts beat as one, we are untouchable."

⠀⠀⠀⠀The young girl cut her eyes at her uncle and silently wished the dragon sigil only had two heads. He returned her look with a knowing smile that taunted her. The competition for Vaerya Targaryen's affection had begun, and both would do anything to win.

⠀⠀⠀⠀When the Andals came to Westeros and decimated the kingdoms of the First Men, they found the tradition of godswoods in place and chose to let it remain. For this reason, despite most of the population worshiping the Seven, a godswood was up-kept in the heart of the Red Keep. It was not formally used to pray to the Old Gods but as a quiet place for reflection and occasional recreation. After meeting leaving her aunt and uncle in the throne room, Rhaenyra partook in the first with her closest companion, Alicent Hightower.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The pair sat beneath the giant Weirwood, discussing the princess' learning. The Targaryen rested her head gently in her friend's lap, eyes studying the blood-red leaves of the deciduous tree. "When Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne, who did she take to husband?" Alicent tested her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"A man," Rhaenyra immediately replied. Her mind drifted elsewhere; she thought of her aunt, mentally recreating her image and fondly admiring it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What was his name?" The Hightower girl pushed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Lord Something."

⠀⠀⠀⠀They made an exchange about how humorous Septa Marlow was when she was furious before Alicent gave up on trying to make her friend pay attention to the historical material. "You're always like this when you're worried," she noted.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Like what?" The princess continued to twirl strands of her light hair around her finger, mind still on Vaerya.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Disagreeable." There was a lull in conversation as Alicent waited for Rhaenyra to make eye contact with her, so she knew she was listening. "You're worried your father is about to overshadow you with a son."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I only worry for my mother." She ignored the pit of anxiety inside her that had been slowly growing larger as they neared the babe's predicted name day. "I hope for my father that he gets a son. As long as I can recall, it's all he's wanted."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You want him to have a son?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, live with Rya for a time on Dragonstone, and eat only cake." There was mainly truth in her statement; she did not currently have a lust for power or any will to sit on the Iron Throne. She only hoped she would continue to have her father's love if her mother produced a boy.