— KING'S LANDING, 111 AC

⠀⠀⠀⠀The sea appeared infinite on the horizon, yet its lengths were incomparable to the grief Rhaenyra felt. Before her were her mother and brother, both bodies wrapped carefully and laid upon a pyre. Her father had decided to butcher her mother in an attempt to save his heir, and the Gods now punished him for it. Except he was not the only one forced to suffer; the princess was now forced to bear the weight of his decision for the rest of her life.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"They're waiting for you," Daemon's voice came from behind her in a whisper. She almost forgot that there were others present with her on the hillside. With so many people in attendance, she felt so utterly alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I wonder, if during those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness." She was boiling with rage beneath her porcelain skin, the contempt she held for her father threatening to surface in the form of angry, hot tears. The only emotion that rivaled it was her sadness.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Your father needs you," her uncle reassured her. "More now than he ever has."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I will never be a son."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"No you will not." Vaerya spoke for the first time since the news of Aemma's death reached them. "But you are a child of the dragon and your lack of a cock does not change this. From this day on, you will scream until these men notice you, until you father acknowledges you. And if they won't, if he does not, you will force them to their knees and make them wish they had. You will make the king bow. It is what your mother would have wanted."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra grabbed her aunt's hand blindly to find something to tether herself with out of fear she would be decimated by her sadness. She took a deep breath to calm herself once their fingers were intertwined. She was a child of the dragon, forged from fire and made for blood. She was more than a mere girl; she was a God amongst men. She would be the dragon her mother would have wanted her to be. But when she got the courage to open her mouth and demand fire, she found she could not.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The older princess understood: she needed to be her niece's strength. She would be anything Rhaenyra needed her to be. She squeezed the girl's hand before leading her away from the other mourners and closer to the funeral pyre. "Do you want me to?" The girl nodded.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Syrax!" She spoke loudly, commanding the attention of her niece's mount that stood atop the hill. "Obey me." The dragon produced a sound, vocalizing that she was awaiting a command.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Dracarys."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Upon the Dragon Whisperer's order, the dragon moved down the slope of the hill and into the range of her intended target. She dutifully listened as if the one giving the command was her bonded rider. With a roar that could almost be described as lamentable, Syrax spewed forth a blaze of brilliant orange fire. The kindling immediately caught fire, and the pyre went up in flames.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Rhaenyra wished she could burn with it. Without her mother, she was sure to be lost. Vaerya swore to guide her through the rest of her adolescence. She would set the world ablaze for her if it meant lighting the way.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The king was forced to set his grief aside and meet with his small council upon their behest. The recent events had left him without an heir, and now the matter of succession was up for question. The Hand urged the succession to be discussed and firmly put in place for the realm's stability. There were those in the group that believed the matter was already dealt with; to them, Viserys had an heir: his brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen. He was heir by precedent and law. However, some believed that the prince's claim as heir could destabilize the realm if he remained uncontested.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Otto Hightower was one of the men who believed the king should name a different heir. He wanted Daemon as far away from the court as possible and openly let the king know. "Daemon is my brother," Viserys spoke, swiftly cutting off any chance the Hand had to elaborate on his ideas. "My blood. And he will have his place at my court." He pointedly made eye contact with each man sitting around the table to ensure they heard him and heeded his words.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Let him keep his place at court, Your Grace," Maester Mellos said. "But if the god should visit some further tragedy on you, either by design or by accident—"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Design?" The king asked. "What are you saying? My brother would murder me, take my crown?" The old man stayed quiet, unsure of how to answer. He implied such a thing but did not wish to make his ruler cross. "Are you?!" There was still no answer, only avoided eye contact. "Please. Daemon has ambition, yes, but not for the throne. He lacks the patience for it."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power, Your Grace," countered Otto.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Under such circumstances, it would not be an aberration for the King to name a successor," Maester Mellos continued.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Well, who else would have a claim?" Lord Lyonel Strong inquired.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Corlys Velaryon drew his lips into a tight line. He knew exactly who had a claim, but he was also aware the person would not happily accept her birthright. She had no want for a throne, no desire for a crown. Since her birth, the woman had never once lusted for the most powerful seat in the world. In fact, when she was forced to court at Kings Landing to partake in the expected duties of a princess of her station, she began to sour like rotting fruit. It seemed she would rather die than ever entertain taking the title of heir.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"The King's sister," the Hand answered. Otto did not truly wish to see the woman on the throne. He would rather see her swearing an oath of silence with the Silent Sisters far away from the capital. Still, he also believed that if he could have her named as heir, it would be easier to carry out any plots he devised in the future, especially the one he currently masterminded with Alicent. Besides, not only was she much more tame than Daemon, but Vaerya was also a woman, so she was naturally weaker and, therefore, virtually no threat to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Vaerya? A girl?" Lyonel questioned. "No queen has ever sat the Iron Thone."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"That is only be tradition and precedent, Lord Strong," Mellos explained.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"If order and stability so concerns this council, then perhaps we shouldn't break one hundred years of it by naming a girl heir." He turned to the king. "Do not mistake my conclusion for ill judgement of the princess, Your Grace. Harwin speaks highly of her from his time being in her personal guard. However, my interests are always with the success of the realm."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Daemon would be a second Maegor, or worse," Otto argued. "He's impulsive and violent. It is the duty of this council to protect the King and the realm from him. I'm sorry, Your Grace, but that is the truth as I see it and I know that others here agree."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I will not be made to choose between my brother and my sister."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You wouldn't have to, Your Grace," Corlys offered. "There are others who would have a claim."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Lyonel laughed, not even hiding his disbelief. "Such as your wife, Lord Corlys? 'The Queen Who Never Was'?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Rhaenys was the only child of Jaehaerys' eldest son. She had a strong claim at the Great Council and she already has a male heir."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Just moments ago, you announced your support for Daemon!" The Hand snapped. "Would seeing the girl you have claimed as your own not be enough for you? Would your wife's daughter on the throne not satisfy the greed inside you? Must it be your wife so that you will be named King Consort and made the most powerful man in the known world?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Vaerya will never accept the title of heir!" Lord Corlys fired back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"She will not have a choice!" Otto argued.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"My wife and son are dead!" Viserys shouted, startling the bickering men around him into silence. He was beyond exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the last thing he needed was to think about choosing between his siblings—his sibling, who he knew had an unexplainable bond; if he were forced to choose between the two, it might tear the entirety of his house apart. "I will not sit here and suffer crows that come to feast on their corpses!" Without another word, he pushed back his chair and rose from his seat before angrily stalking out of the room with his guard following closely behind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Daemon also left the meeting chambers, slipping back into the darkness he had been lurking in to eavesdrop on the procession. After his brother's steadfast opposition to naming a new heir, the prince felt confident in his position—too confident. After he was inevitably coronated King of the Seven Kingdoms, no one would stop him from partaking in the ancient Valyrian custom of taking another wife. He would make Vaerya Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And then, both Targaryens would be executing their birthrights.

⠀⠀⠀⠀To celebrate what he believed to be his near future, Daemon took to the Street of Silk, bought out a pleasure house, and titled his deceased nephew "Heir for a Day." With so many people witnessing the spectacle, it was no surprise that one pair of the Hand's many eyes saw it and reported it back for a small sum of money. Now able to easily further his own plot, Otto promptly told Viserys during an impromptu small council meeting. Rhaenyra, ever her father's faithful cupbearer, was also in attendance when the event was described. The amiable dislike she had for her uncle immediately turned into steadfast hate. And who did she turn to? The woman she loved most in the world happened to be the only person who the prince would care to lose: Vaerya. Rhaenyra would be sure to hurt her uncle just as much as he hurt her by disgracing her dead brother.

⠀⠀⠀⠀King Viserys mirrored the image of Aegon the Conquer atop the Iron Throne with a golden crown upon his head and a mighty sword stationed in front of him. Of course, Prince Daemon, who had been summoned, knew it was a facade. The man was slightly surprised to find Vaerya standing on the steps that led up to the formidable seat. She wore a black dress, still mourning for the deceased queen and prince. She stood with her hands laced behind her back, and her head angled straight forward. Her eyes stared into him but betrayed nothing of the meaning of his summoning. Daemon found himself reminded of both Rhaenys and Visenya; she looked like she belonged so close to the throne like she was made to rule from it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You cut the image of the Conqueror, brother. And you, sister, that of Aegon's sister wives."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Did you say it?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I don't know what you mean," Daemon feigned.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You will address me as 'Your Grace,' or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue," Viserys threatened. He was at the end of his rope with his brother, who was all but tying the rope into a noose. "'The Heir for a Day." Did you say it?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀The man looked around the room, not wanting to make eye contact with the woman who stared at him, awaiting his answer. He knew he had been caught. All he could do was attempt to soften the blows that would be consequently brought down upon his head. "We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You cunt!" Vaerya hissed. Her sudden interruption caught both men off guard. They did nothing but watch with great anticipation as she marched down the steps toward the prince. The sound of her feet harshly hitting the stone resonated through the cavernous room, acting as an anxious tune for her descent towards him. Her hands were balled into fists, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms hard enough to break the first layer of skin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀With her face now inches from his own, Daemon could clearly see the anger in her facial features as her emotions betrayed her. Her jaw was tense, and her nostrils were flared. She stared up at him with a rage he had never witnessed from her, her amethyst eyes an endless sea of inky mauveine. He would undoubtedly have been dead a thousand times over if looks could kill.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Our family has just been destroyed!" She seethed. "And instead of being by Rhaenyra's side, you chose to celebrate your own opportunity! You laughed with your filthy whores and your ignorant lickspittles!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Our family?" He could not help but scoff. "They were not our family. Viserys has only ever sent us away from court, isolating us from our own blood and our birthrights! He exiled you to Dragonstone and sent me to Vale! We have been anywhere but by his side! And now, when tragedy strikes is when he wants us but his side? He only wishes for us when it suits him!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"This is not about him!" She struck him in the chest with a fist, causing him to stagger back a few inches to keep his balance. The woman may have appeared to have a small frame, but she certainly carried a lot of power. "The dragon is more than just Viserys! It is Rhaenyra too! My poor Nyra who is constantly overlooked and forgotten by everyone in this gods forsaken kingdom! Our grieving Nyra, who needed you more than ever!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Daemon was speechless, imprisoned by the hate that radiated from the woman he loved. A dark pit formed in his stomach and swallowed his heart whole. Not because he regretted his action or words but because she was beginning to view him as everyone else did: as a grievance. Yet, he allowed her to berate him and smack him repeatedly, for he knew this may be the last ounce of emotion he ever received from her. He would accept any morsel of emotion from her—love or hate—and savor it like a starving man.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You taught me the blood of the dragon runs thick, but you have managed to cut us all so deep." The anger had begun to subside in her tone, and only grave disappointment was left. "You have gutted me, Daemon." With her words, he was gutted too.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Why do you cut us so deeply?" Viserys questioned, reminding the two of his presence. Everyone else inevitably faded away whenever they interacted with one another, so naturally, the king had practically been forgotten about.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The prince tore his gaze from his sister to his brother behind her. He felt sorry for his brother, seeing him as the sheep in wolf clothing. The image of a dragon could only protect him from the snakes in his court for so long. "I've only ever spoken the truth. I see Otto Hightower for what he is."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"An unwavering and loyal Hand?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"A cunt!" Vaerya yelled in exasperation, turning on her foot to face her eldest brother. "How is it that everyone else can see it but you, brother? The entirety of house Hightower is poisoned with greed!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Daemon jumped in, attempting to seize the opportunity and support his sister's case in an attempt to sway her back to his side. "He is a second son who stands to inherit nothing he doesn't seize for himself." His attempt failed, and she threw him a nasty glare over her shoulder. She did not need his help and did not wish to hear him speak.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Otto Hightower is a more honorable man than you could ever be."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"He doesn't protect you," the prince insisted. "I would."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"From what?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yourself. You're weak... Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Viserys could not stand to hear any more lies from his brother or disrespect from his sister. He was ready to have the pair separated so the storm may be dampened, if only for a short moment. "I have decided to name a new heir," he finally announced, his patience exhausted.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm your heir," Daemon protested. His sister said nothing but did give their brother a questioning look. It was clear that she had not known about this decision before the moment.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Not anymore." The king paused to gauge his brother's reaction before continuing. "You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without quarrel by order of your King.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The prince took a step forward but was immediately halted by four members of the Kingsguard reaching for their sheathed weapons. The metallic sound of their armor rang through his ears. It was a warning. The king sat forward slightly, leaning his weight on the sword he held. He was preparing himself for one of Daemon's habitual violent outbursts.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"And who is to be named heir?" Daemon inquired. "Certainly not Vaerya, as the Small Council has suggested." Viserys' face darkened at the realization that his brother had been spying on small council meetings. He would not attend the ones he was invited to but would take the time to lurk in the shadows of those meant to happen without his knowledge. "Lord Corlys was correct in his assessment that she would never accept such a title. She hardly wishes to have the one she currently holds."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Vaerya's eyes widened at the mere suggestion of her becoming Heir to the Iron Throne. The anger that had forged her iron backbone melted, and she was left a puddle on the floor. "No." She muttered, shaking her head, tears of sadness and anger burning the corners of her eyes. "I have given everything to the Realm: my childhood, my happiness, my firstborn child! I have nothing else to give except my future and my children, all of which are mine! You cannot have anything more from me!" Her voice had risen an octave now as she became defensive. The spine of iron had been reforged from the dragon fire coursing through her veins.